True Brotherhood
by UThnkUrFunny IThnkImAdorable
Summary: AU John and Dean are finishing up a hunt when they stumble upon a young boy named Sam. When they discover Sam's past, will they be able to help him heal? Limp!abused!Sam Protective!Dean and a little Protective!Mean!John. Inspired by cartchica89
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**New story... Don't know if it'll take, so if enough people like it, I'll continue it.**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. They are NOT related. (NOT WINCEST!!!)  
**

**Enjoy chapter one!**

* * *

Dean chuckled as he continued to research. This was one of those cakewalk hunts. A pure and simple salt and burn case. Dean didn't even see the point in doing further research, but his father had insisted on it.

Two months ago, a rash of unexplained deaths occurred by a stream that went through the local woods. Two weeks before that, a kid named Russel Tringum was found dead beside the stream. He had been beaten and strangled. Though the cause of death turned out to be blunt trauma to the head. Further investigating by the Winchesters showed that Russel was a very picked on child. He was skinny and small for his age and super smart on top of it. Turns out that a couple of bullies, Harry Patterson and Greg Simmon, were with Russel the night he died. They went into the woods in the middle of the night in hopes of scaring Russel. However, the teasing got a bit too far. Harry and Greg are sons of some of the most powerful people in the small town so Russel's death received no justice.

In the two months following Russel Tringum's death, anyone matching Harry Patterson or Greg Simmon's physical description were found dead by the stream, bruises on their neck and face, cause of death was always blunt trauma to the head.

Dean already knew where the body was buried and was fully prepared to go out and salt and burn the son of a bitch. The research he was conducting now was of the boring past of the boring town. Simmonsville of Kentucky was just downright boring. Dean sighed. Did he mention this town was boring?

Dean loved the hunt but sometimes it brought them to some serious dumps. While the few families at the top lived happy and content, the poor rest of the 95 percent of the population lived like shit. Most of the houses were rotting and needed some serious paint jobs. The cops were lazy and useless. Not to mention corrupt. They pretty much did whatever the top families told them to do. There were two schools in the entire town. One of them was a nice private school for the rich kids while the rest got to go to the shitty school with barely no funding and crappy teachers. Dean would be very happy once they got out of there and onto the next case.

John and Dean Winchester got into hunting when Dean was four years old. His mother was killed by some supernatural entity. She was found one morning in the living room, her neck was twisted broken and her eyes had bled out of her skull. Every since, his father has been hellbent to kill the evil bastard that murdered his wife. And on they way, he was determined to kill every supernatural threat out there. Growing up in his father's shadow and remembering his mother's body with vivid accuracy, Dean took after his father in the love in the hunt and desire to exterminate supernatural threats. Though Dean was slightly more level-headed and (as much as he hated to admit it) soft than his hardcore Marine father.

"Dean."

Dean looked up from his research at his father. "Can I stop now?"

John smiled. "Yup. Let's get something to eat then go back to the motel."

Dean smiled back and quickly slammed the records book shut, noticing how the librarians didn't seem to care how he mistreated the books.

Back at the motel room, Dean was stuffing his face with a double-stacked burger as John lay out how the evening was going to go. "At around eleven o'clock tonight, we'll leave for the cemetery. From there it's routine. I'll dig while you keep a look out and then well salt and burn the bones."

"Body, Dad. It's only been a couple of months. It's gonna be a rotting, kinda fresh body," Dean said with clear distaste at the idea of burning flesh.

"Suck it up, Dean. It's gotta be done."

"I know that! I just wish the poor bastard could have been dead a bit longer before getting all vengeful."

John chuckled. "Alright, go to bed and get some rest. I'll wake you up when it's time to go.

---

Dean woke up with a start as a duffle bag landed on him.

"Up and at 'em, Dean. We're leaving in five."

Dean rubbed his eyes and forced them open. He sighed as he grabbed the duffle bag and stuffed his gear in it. "Dad, did you get...?" John held a cup of coffee in front of his face and Dean greedily grabbed it.

"I swear you're addicted to the stuff." John sipped on his own coffee as he loaded up the Impala.

They sat in comfortable silence as they drove to the cemetery. Dean finished off his coffee and got himself mentally ready for the job. John couldn't afford to have Dean groggy minded. Especially since Russel was bound to get angry at them trying to destroy him.

When they arrived, they grabbed their duffle bags and headed into the cemetery. Dean led his father to where Russel Tringum was resting and handed him the shovel. Dean opened his bag and pulled out a shotgun loaded with rock salt.

As John neared the bottom of the grave, the temperature dropped and their flashlights started to flicker. Dean steeled himself and held the sawed-off firmly in his hands.

"What are you doing?"

Dean spun around to face a twelve-year-old spirit, bruises and cuts covering most of his body. Russel looked down at John who continued to dig and Dean quickly fired. The boy dissipated as John gave a triumphant shout. Dean heard him break the coffin and pull aside the wood. "Dean!"

Dean reached into his pocket and tossed the salt and Vaseline to his father. Just as Russel appeared.

"Dean! Behind you!"

Dean turned just as Russel flung his arm, sending him flying at a headstone. He gave a pained grunt as his shoulder popped out of place. He looked up and quickly aimed his weapon as Russel appeared above him. But Russel froze as his form caught on fire. He turned towards his grave where John stood over the burning remains.

"No!" Russel screamed as he burst into flames. Dean sagged to the ground, thankful it was over. He winced as his dislocated shoulder screamed at him. _It never goes smoothly._

_---  
_

Dean was sitting in the Impala, resting his shoulder on his father's insistence, while John finished up refilling the grave and packing all their gear up. After he dumped the duffles in the truck, John got in the car and looked over worriedly at his son. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Dean grunted, trying to get into a more comfortable position. "It'll be fine once you pop it back in."

John nodded. He turned on the ignition and pulled out of the cemetery parking lot. "It's times like these I'm glad we know how to deal with first aid..."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I checked out this town's medical facilities..." John shook his head disbelievingly. "I've seen _sewers_ more sterile. The doctors don't know shit and I bet they get their kicks playing around with their patients."

Dean gagged a little at the implication. "God, I'm suddenly very thankful to have you has a father."

John chuckled. "Yeah, I still can't..."

"LOOK OUT!" Dean yelled."

John turned his attention to the road just in time to see that someone was standing in the middle of the road. He slammed on the brakes and swerved the car, barely missing the person. "Jesus Christ!"

The Winchester men sat frozen for a moment, their heavy breathing loud in the silence. Then, remembering what happened, Dean quickly got out of the Impala to check up on the person. Or kid. The boy just stood in the middle of the road, his body was slightly hunched over, the longish brown mop on his head effectively hiding his face. His body was trembling, mostly likely from shock. "Hey, you okay?" Dean asked. He approached the boy slowly, like he would a wounded animal, not knowing how the kid would react to a stranger. "Kid?"

The boy looked up at him and Dean froze. The boy had a jagged scar running from the left side of his forehead to the bottom of his right cheek. His blue-green eyes were wide and fearful. Dean noticed how the kid's right leg was at an odd angle.

John got out of the car and stood behind Dean, taking the boy's appearance in. He was no older than thirteen. His clothes were dirty, worn-out, and much too big for him. "Kid," John said cautiously, "What's your name?"

The boy just stared back wide-eyed at them. When John tried to step closer, the kid took a tentative step back. John noted how the kid limped as he retreated.

"It's okay, we're not gonna hurt you. As much as the Impala begged to differ..." John tried to joke. The kid remained unchanged.

Dean took a few steps closer and the kid quickly stepped back, but he lost his balance and fell over. The kid yelped and Dean instinctively ran up to help the kid.

"Dean..." John warned.

The kid looked up fearfully at the approaching teenager. "It's okay," Dean said. He slowly knelt beside the child, noticing how the kid cringed away from him. "I'm not gonna hurt you..." Dean pointed to the boy's right leg and said, "Can I check this out?"

The kid just stared back before slowly nodding. Dean bent forward, taking note of the slight flinch the boy gave as Dean started to roll the pant leg up. Dean took a sharp inhale at the sight. At some point in the distant past, the leg had been broken and twisted in three different places. By the looks of things, it hadn't been treated and now the kid has a permanently twisted leg. "Jesus, kid what happened to you...?"

John let Dean talk to and inspect the young child, knowing Dean was better at that sort of thing anyway. John tended to be a bit harsh and direct.

"Dad?"

John took a few steps forward, wincing at the sight of the leg. "Yeah, Dean."

Dean looked up and said, "We can't leave this kid here."

John nodded. "Kid... where do you live?"

The kid's eyes flickered back and forth between the two Winchesters, still wide and fearful.

John sighed and felt a little guilty that his patience was starting to wear thin. "Can you talk, kid?"

The kid bit his lip in response, tears starting to brim in his eyes.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?!" John said a little annoyed.

"Dad!" Dean chided when he heard the kid's breathing hitch at the harsh tone.

"Sorry... kid, do you understand what I'm saying? Can you answer me in any way?" he said more gently.

Slowly, the kid gave a slight nod.

Dean smiled. "Okay." He pulled the kids pant leg back down over the twisted mess.

"You're coming back to the motel with us," John said, not noticing how the kid's eyes darkened in deeper fear. "Tomorrow, we find out who you are. I'm sure you have a family that's very worried about you right now."

Dean looked at the kid's face, and highly doubted his father's words.

* * *

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**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. They are NOT related. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**Jeez! I certainly didn't expect this story to be THAT much of a success... well, looks like I'm continuing it. **

**Enjoy chapter two!**

* * *

"Okay," Dean said as he got up. Not knowing his name, Dean figured he'd just call him Kid. "Can you stand, Kid?" Dean offered his hand in assistance.

Kid looked at the hand for a second before he weakly grabbed it. Dean carefully pulled Kid up to his feet and made sure he was steady before letting go and heading back to the Impala. "C'mon, you can stay at our motel room tonight and we can figure out who your family is tomorrow." Kid gave Dean a confused look. Dean sighed. "Kid... do you understand English?" Kid gave a hesitant nod. "Can you talk?" Kid just shrank back from Dean, as though he was expecting a blow. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Dean!" John called from the car. "You comin'?"

"Yeah! One moment! C'mon." He walked over to the car, throwing glances over his shoulder to make sure Kid wasn't having too much trouble walking. He figured Kid didn't want to be touched, but Dean'd be there to help just in case anyway. But it was both a comfort and heartbreaking to see that Kid seemed used to walking around on his twisted leg.

Just before Dean got in the Impala, he turned and waited for Kid to finish limping his way over. Dean looked down at the leg in sympathy. The right foot still pointed generally forward, but Dean thinks that's only because the twisted parts of his legs are in different directions. His knee seemed to bend in a way that the tibia went out to the side. Which means that his tibia was broken and twisted to force his foot to point forward. _What the hell happened to this kid?_

When Kid made it to the car, Dean pulled his seat forward. "You can lie down in the back. Unless... it's more comfortable to sit up..." Dean gave Kid an uncertain look which Kid returned with a genuinely confused one. Then, with great difficulty, Kid carefully crawled into the back of the impala, sitting up and resting his right leg next to him on the seat, where it natural wanted to go. Dean felt sick at the thought that _that _position was Kid's most comfortable one.

Dean placed his seat back where it belonged and slid in next to his father. "Let's go."

---

John knew that this kid was gonna be a pain in the ass. He wouldn't talk and, by the looks of things, doesn_'_t _want _to go home. John sighed. _I can always dump him at a police station and let them deal with him. But they might want information about us... Maybe dump him at the hospital... Nope. Not dumping him in a shit hole. Jeez, this is such a waste of time..._

They pulled into the motel parking lot at about two in the morning. Dean was dozing off and the kid was sound asleep, leaning against the window. John shook Dean's shoulder. "C'mon, kiddo. Gotta pop your shoulder back into place."

"Hmm?"

"Gotta fix your shoulder."

Dean nodded and slowly got himself up and inside. When he saw that his father was following him he asked, "What about Kid?"

"'Kid?'"

Dean shrugged. "What else we gonna call him?"

John shrugged and beckoned his son inside. "He's asleep. I'll deal with him after we deal with your shoulder."

Dean frowned at his father's tone, but knew better than to question him. Once inside, John positioned himself behind Dean and placed his hands on either side of his shoulder. "Okay, on three. One..." CRACK!

"AH! God... I knew you were gonna do that..." Dean breathed.

"Put some ice on it and go to bed. I'll get... Kid." _We need to figure out what his real name is..._ Dean nodded and went to grab some ice and go to bed.

When John went back out to the Impala, he saw that Kid was awake and waiting patiently in the back seat. John sighed as he opened the passenger door and leaned the back of the front seat forward. "You just gonna sit here or are you coming in?" John asked, clearly annoyed.

Kid shifted his eyes downward before starting to struggle his way out of the car. John would have normally provided help, but doubted the kid would react well to touch.

Kid finally stumbled out, falling onto the asphalt in the process. Kid started to curl in on himself when John roughly said, "C'mon, Kid! I don't want to stay out here all night!"

Like a switch had been flicked, Kid immediately hobbled his way onto his feet. He stood hunched over, gaze focused on the ground, leaning heavily on his left leg.

John led the boy inside and pointed to the couch. "You'll sleep there," he said quietly knowing Dean was probably asleep by now. He grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and tossed it onto the arm of the couch. "Sleep well," he said in a non-caring manner.

Turning on the water as hot as it would go, John quickly stripped and stepped into the shower, relishing the feeling of the muscles loosening. It has been one _heck_ of a night. They've taken in a stray after an only semi-smooth hunt, a stray that won't talk and is apparently a gimp. Scratch that. _Obviously_ a gimp. John shuddered as he imagined how the boy's leg could have ended up so disfigured.

The water ran cold all too soon, forcing John to reluctantly turn it off and get out. He dried himself off and put on a pair of relatively clean boxers and and equally clean shirt. He looked at the clock. 3:04 AM. He was looking forward to collapsing for the night.

When he walked into his room, he instantly knew that wasn't going to be the case.

Kid was kneeing by the bed, his bad leg sticking out to the side. He was completely naked. Horrible burn scars covered his left side and left arm. You could clearly see the stretched skin on his leg where it had been twisted. It was a grotesque sight.

John was stunned at the sight. For a moment he just stood there staring. The _entire_ sight was pretty shocking. A young, naked boy, who's only flaws were large burns, a twisted leg and a long scar across the face, kneeling by your bed.

"Y-you..."

The shaky voice broke John out of his reverie. A single tear ran down Kid's face as he struggled into standing position. "Y-you were nice t-to me... I-I know what to do..." He limped over to the shocked John and pulled down on the hem of his boxers.

"Stop!" John yelled. He slapped the boy's hand away and stared at him with a look of disgust. "The _hell_ do you think you're doing, you perv!?" Exhaustion and shock forced John's mind to come up with only one conclusion. "This what you do? Play pity card to get your rocks off for the night?! That how you got those burns?! That how your leg got screwed?! Some poor bastard got mad at you for playing him!?"

Tears started to build in Kid's eyes as he shook his head. "I-I th-thought... Am I d-doing s-something w-w-wrong?"

"What the hell do you think!?" John roared. "Grab your clothes and get the hell outta here! NOW!"

Kid immediately complied, limping away far quicker than someone might first think.

Hearing shouting, Dean shot up awake, instinctively grabbing his knife. "The hell...?" Dean got out of bed and left his room to see what was happening when Kid ran into him, hard.

"Kid?" Dean looked down at the teary, terrified eyes. "Kid, what's wrong?"

Kid stared into Dean's eyes for only a moment before burying himself into Dean's chest.

Unsure what was going on, Dean wrapped his arms around Kid's shoulders, his brow furrowed in confusion. That's when he noticed that Kid was naked. "What the...?"

"Dean! Let got of him!"

Dean's head shot up to see his father, red from fury. Dean's gaze flickered between the naked child in his arms and his livid dad. _Something's not adding up._ "Dad, what the hell's going on?"

"Little brat's a perv! He tried to pull my boxers down!"

Dean's brow furrowed harder as he looked down at the trembling Kid in his arms. Dean knew his father tended to be irrational when he was too tired or drunk. He looked up at his father and said, "Dad, get some sleep, I'll take care of Kid." Dean felt Kid stiffen in his arms.

"Dean.."

"'Night, Dad!" Dean said forcefully.

John gave Kid one last death glare before returning to his room and slamming the door shut.

Dean held Kid out at arms length. He was tall for his age. He would only be a few inches shorter than Dean if he could stand straight on his leg, but his childish features suggested he was barely in his teens. Dean's gut twisted at the large burn scars covering his left side and arm. Kid kept his head down, his entire body slouched and trembling. Dean sighed. He wasn't sure what actually happened but he figured he'd get the entire story in the morning. "Okay, Kid. How about we get some clothes on you, then sleep, 'kay?"

Kid looked up at Dean with a confused look. He shook his head hesitantly.

"What? What's wrong?"

"D-don't..." Dean's eyes widened at Kid's sudden ability of speech. "D-don't you... you've been really _nice_," Sam said as though what he was trying to point out should be obvious.

Dean shook his head. "I don't understand, Kid."

"Don't you w-want..." Sam looked down and placed a hand firmly on Dean's crotch.

Dean jerked backwards, forcing Kid's hand to retreat. "Whoa-whoa-whoa! No! I don't want!" Dean said quickly.

The look of pure confusion Kid gave was devastating. "Y-you... _don't?_"

Dean stared at Kid with a look of pure sympathy and sighed. "Kid... what's your name?"

"Uh...I-I..."

"What? You don't want to tell me?"

"No... its just..." Kid sighed as he gave up trying to understand the situation. "Sam. Sam Zel."

* * *

**Love it? Hate it? Bored? REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. They are NOT related. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**I know I've been working a bit fast on this story, but I always do that at the beginning of stories! It'll start to slow down into rhythm with my other stories eventually...**

**AN: I know this chapter is kinda short. I promise I'll try making the chapters longer!  
**

**Enjoy chapter three!**

* * *

"Sam... Okay, c'mon, Sam." Dean led him to the couch, where his ratty clothes were neatly folded on top of the also neatly folded blanket. Dean grabbed the clothes and handed them to Sam. "Get dressed. I'm gonna get something to..." Dean stopped and frowned when Sam simply stood there staring at the clothes. "It's okay, Sam. Just get dressed."

Sam shook his head. "I-I can't." Sam quickly placed his clothes back down and grabbed himself. "I-I know th-that y-y-you prob'ly w-want..."

Dean repressed his gag reflex as Sam started to pump himself in hopes of pleasing Dean. Dean grabbed Sam's arms and pulled his hands away from his crotch. "No," Dean said firmly. "I don't want."

Sam started to panic. "W-what am I doin' wrong!?" he said quickly. "Am... am I in trouble!? I'm sorry!" Sam grabbed Dean's shirt desperately. "Please! Let me make it up to you! I-I'll... wait." Sam's expression changed as he seemed to realize something. "D... do you wanna play?"

Dean shook his head, not quite knowing what Sam meant. "Sam, I just want you to get some sleep."

Sam gave him a confused look before shaking his head, resolve covering his face. "N-no. I understand." Sam quickly limped to Dean's room. Not knowing what the kid was doing, Dean quickly followed. When he entered his room, he saw Sam lay himself down on Dean's bed. "I-I'll stay still. No noise, no struggling, no nothing. A doll," Sam said, more to himself than to Dean.

This was all getting to be too much for Dean. And his stomach. He quickly ran to the bathroom and heaved into the toilet. The image of Sam laying naked and prone on his bed kept flashing across his mind's eye, making him gag. "Oh... god..."

After the dry heaves passed and Dean knew he'd be able to stomach Sam's actions, he flushed the toilet and got up. When he reentered his room, he found Sam now curled his side, facing away from the door. His shoulders were shaking with silent sobs. Dean could see dozens and dozens of long, thin scars crisscrossing his back. _What happened to this kid?_ Dean could faintly hear Sam muttering to himself. Not wanting to startle him, Dean slowly approached the bed. As he got closer, he started to distinguish the mutterings.

"Dirty freak. All you are. Twisted, deformed, little freak. Dirty. Very dirty little boy...."

"Sam?"

Sam stopped stiffened a little before slowly flipped himself back onto his back. Tears covered his face, making it glisten. "I-I'm sorry," he murmured. "I know I'm dirty. Dirty, deformed freak... But... you were _really_ nice to me."

He wrapped his arms around his chest and cradled himself. "This... this freakish, spoiled body... it's all I have to offer," he squeaked out. "I'm sorry it's not good enough but... I can still make it good! I can! I promise!" he pleaded.

Not knowing what to say, Dean walked to his closet and got out his robe. "Please sit up, Sam."

Sam quickly sat up on the bed, spreading his legs apart and looking up at Dean expectantly. "'M ready."

Dean tried to ignore Sam's actions as he wrapped the thick robe around Sam's shoulders. "Put this on, please." Sam looked at Dean in bewilderment. "Look, I don't want to touch you. Not like that. And it's not because you're dirty or deformed or anything else like that. If I _did_ want to touch you like that, there'd be something wrong with_ me_. Understand?"

Sam shook his head.

"Sam... who have you been living with?"

"You."

"I mean before here. Who did you live with before?"

"My family."

"Did they... were they the ones..." Dean sighed. "Did they expect you to be... naked for them?"

"Of course," Sam said, as though it was obvious. "What else am I good for?"

_His own family? Who on earth would do this to their own blood!?_ "Okay. I want you to go to the couch and get some sleep."

"A-are you sure?" Sam asked uncertainly.

"Yes." Dean looked at the clock. 3:53 AM. "Sleep for as long as you want. We'll deal with everything else later."

"C-can... can I ask you a q-question?"

"Sure. What is it?"

Sam's eyes widened in amazement. "I can!?"

"Yeah... what did you wanna ask?"

"Um, that."

"Sorry?"

"I... I wanted to know if I could ask things."

"Oh. Alright... go to sleep now, Sam."

"O-okay." Sam got off the bed and left the room. Dean sighed in relief. It took a lot of energy to talk to that kid. Dean looked at the bed longingly, dying to just drop on it and submit to unconsciousness. But every time he looked at it, all he could see was a naked Sam offering himself to him. Repressing the need to throw up again, Dean grabbed his sleeping bag and went to sleep on the floor.

---

Sam sat on the couch, his leg resting beside him, wrapping the robe the teen gave him tightly around his chest. There was no way he could fall asleep. He was too used to working all night.

These people... they were very confusing to Sam. Their behavior, their attitudes, and above all, the way they treated him was all very alien to Sam. Something he had never seen or experienced before. He knew he did something wrong with the older man. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what.

And then the older teenager... Dean? Right, that's what the older man called him. He _really_ confused Sam. Sam could understand if Dean didn't want him because of his deformities and of how obviously dirty he was. But Dean said that wasn't why. That _Dean_ would have something wrong with him if he _did_ want to take Sam. That just didn't make sense. But Dean seemed to truly believe it. Sam shook his head. It just didn't make sense.

He shivered as the thought about why he was there. His family dumped him. He did the unthinkable, was punished for it, and dumped. He started to cry as he thought about his family. He understood that he made a mistake... but things seemed to be changing. The way Sam was thinking and acting was starting to scare him. It wasn't right. Sam knew his role, but he dared to go against it. Why? Because on some level, it felt _wrong._ Sam didn't like these new feelings. They were almost as confusing as Dean and the man. Sam started to feel all the more spoiled, dirty, deformed, _freakish,_ than he did before. Before, it didn't really bother him. He just did what his family wanted, because as long as he did, they would still love him. But these new feelings made Sam feel _bad_. And he didn't like it.

Sam just shook his head and continued to cry. Nothing made_ sense _anymore.

---

When John turned over to look at the clock, it was 10:34 in the morning. He moaned as he got himself up and headed towards the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. On his way there, he got a glimpse of Sam who was leaning against the back of it, asleep.

The previous night's activities suddenly came rushing back to John and a surge of anger hit him when he saw his son's robe on the boy. _The hell?! I thought Dean got rid of him last night!? _He marched up to the couch, and slapped the kid awake. Sam looked up with drowsy, confused eyes at the rude awakening. "I thought I told you to get outta here!" John growled.

Sam's eyes widened and he quickly nodded. He promptly got up and headed to the door.

"Stop! Take off that robe! It's not yours, you little thief!"

Sam looked a little crestfallen as he untied the robe and removed it, leaving him glaring naked again. Not daring to anger the man further by trying to get his clothes back, he turned back around and ran outside, unprotected.

* * *

**AN: John will not be forever mean. He'll realize his mistake next chapter.**

**Love it? Hate it? Bored? REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. They are NOT related. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**This is the longest chapter I have EVER written! Don't expect too much out of it though. It's really long cause I've got writer's block on Regaining Humanity, so any ideas would be great!**

**Enjoy chapter four!  
**

* * *

John started to feel a little guilty the more awake he got. Okay, a little more than a little. He just sent a young boy, naked into the winter weather, because John was too tired to realize his first assumptions were way off base. In fact, more than likely, the kid was probably abused.

John sighed. He couldn't help but be relieved, though, that he didn't have to deal with the kid. And that made him feel more guilty. But seriously, the reason why the kid was abused was probably because of the shitty police enforcement around here. No one probably cared. So yeah. John was a little relieved that he didn't have all that to deal with. Still, he had no right for yelling at the poor kid and sending him off, heaven knows where.

John looked up as Dean stumbled into the kitchen, obviously not awake yet. "Mornin' Dad..."

"Morning, Dean."

Dean poured himself of cup of coffee and immediately started to down the hot caffeine. When he finally came up for air, he let out a satisfied sigh. He looked over at the couch and frowned. "Dad, where's Sam?"

"'Sam?'"

"Kid told me his name last night, where is he?" Dean asked, his anger growing when he realized what must have happened.

"Oh, he... uh... I kinda kicked him out."

"You what!?"

"The little perv had _your _robe on! The little thief thought he could get something out of us..."

"Yeah... Dad..." Dean said, a little more than angry. "That's because I _gave_ him that robe!"

"What? Why would you do that? Why the hell did you just kick his sorry ass outta here!"

"How thick are you, Dad!? Can't you tell that the way he was acting was the only way he _knew _how to act?!"

John felt a deep chasm create itself in his stomach. Dean's instincts were rarely wrong with this sort of stuff. "What do you mean?"

"According to Sam, his _family_, kept him as a convenient sex toy! He kept thinking I was mad at him for not wanting to... _do_ stuff to him! He doesn't know how to act any other way!" Dean was screaming now, furious at the family for treating a child so horribly, at the world for not being able to do anything to stop it, and at his dad for his rough treatment with the boy.

Dean didn't know why, but he felt this pull towards Sam. This uncontrollable urge to protect the kid and kill everyone who hurts him. And that urge was kicking in full throttle. "I mean did you even _think_ about why a someone as young and _handicapped_ as him would do stuff like that in the first place!? Did you even - ?!" Dean froze as his eyes caught sight of Sam's clothing. "Dad, did Sam take my robe with him?!"

"N-no, he just took it off and ran out naked." John didn't want Dean to know _every_ screw-up of his.

Dean's eyes widened. "I have to find him before his family does." He grabbed his leather jacket and the Impala keys.

"I'll come with - "

"NO! I mean, I think Sam might be scared of you now. He might just run from you." Dean headed out the door as he yelled back, "See what you can find out about him! His last name's Z-e-l!"

---

Sam had his arms wrapped tightly around him in an in vain attempted to block out the cold as he stumbled down the street. He silently wished for Dean's robe back. He already looked like a freak with a limp and scar, but with every flaw and weakness out in the open like this, Sam felt like going under a rock and staying there until death found him.

"Hey, kid!"

Sam turned his attention to the three older teenager boys and he felt the blood drain out of his face. "H-Harry?" Sam whispered in horror.

Harry looked at Sam in surprised then smiled smugly. "Look, fellas! It's the village freak." The other two kids laughed and Sam felt himself shrink away from them. "Aw, don't worry, freak! We won't hurt ya! Oh, by the way, I heard what happened... oh no! Don't worry! I won't tell." Harry put a finger to his lips to mock silence. "Can't, really unless I want my own head on a platter."

One of the other boys had bent down and grabbed a rock off the ground. "Think fast!" he yelled. He hurled the rock at Sam and it hit him squarely on the head causing him to cry out and fall backwards onto the ground. They all laughed as Sam brought a hand up to his temple and dumbly observe the blood that was there. They strode up and stood over his trembling form. "Jeez, what a mess..." the teen said as he nudged Sam's leg.

Harry looked at the leg with morbid interest. "Hey guys? Let's play a game. Sammy here, will run as fast as his dead leg will carry him. We can have ourselves a little target practice."

Sam shook his head. "N-no, please..." He tried to get up only to be pinned back down with a boot on his chest. Then he did something he's rarely done before. He fought back.

He leaned up and bit into the calf of the leg holding him down, electing a shout of anger and the removal of the boot. Sam quickly got up and tried to get away. But one of Harry's lackeys grabbed his hair and pulled him back. "Hey, freak! What the hell was that?!"

Tears streamed down Sam's face as the older teen held Sam almost off the ground by his hair. "I-I'm sorry!" Sam begged. "Please! L-let me g-go!"

The teen just laughed as he propped Sam onto his feet then shoved him into Harry's arms. Harry wrapped his arm's tightly around Sam's arms and chest. "You've been a bad boy, Sammy. Now you have to suffer the consequences." Harry nodded to one of his companions who stepped up and swiftly started to kick Sam in the groin and stomach. Sam let out a scream as his frozen body was shocked and jarred by the hard blows. He started to sob. "Pl-please... I-I'll b-be go-od... I-I'll be a g-good b-b-boy...!" Sam cried.

They just laughed and the teen who had been delivering the blows stopped and the other pulled out a knife from his waistband. "I'm sure you will," the kid said. "But we gotta make sure you get the message." The other teen held Sam's head firmly as the boy drove the point of the knife into Sam's cheek and started to carve. He smiled as Sam started to scream in agony.

"What's going on!?"

An older lady heard a commotion outside and came to investigate. She stopped in surprise at the sight. Three well-known boys were terrorizing a younger naked one who looked to have been in some sort of horrific accident at some point in the past.

Harry quickly leg go of Sam who fell limply to the ground, too terrified to move. He was starting to hyperventilate as he curled into a ball and tried to block out the three torturers.

Harry and his two friends backed up as the woman walked closer to them. Sensing the boys moving away, Sam uncurled a little to look up and see a woman with a stoic face, glaring at the teens. "Pl-please..." Sam begged. "I - "

The woman brought her leg back and kicked Sam squarely in the head. "Shut up, freak!" She looked back at the three teens and said, "Get outta here, you troublemakers! I'll deal with the gimp." She looked down with disgust at the sobbing boy at her feet. She kneeled down and roughly grabbed Sam's chin and lifted his face up. She looked down at his cheek, where the boys had managed to carve a 'fre,' obviously trying to spell out 'freak.' She tisked at the cuts. "Silly boys. If someone from out of town saw this, they'd know it was deliberate." She pressed a thumb to the bloody letters and pressed hard against his teeth. Sam whimpered and fresh tears fell down his face. She scowled and applied a few firm slaps to his face. "How dare you, you little freak!" She straddled him, sitting on his chest while continuing to slap him. "After all we've done for you, you ungrateful brat! After everything you _did!_ You still beg and whimper, like a pathetic dog for us to stop! After what you did, you know you deserve worse!"

Sam managed to nod his head under the assault of the woman's bruising slaps. His tears continued to fall down his face as the woman spat out insults and accusations as she punished him. He noticed that other neighbors started to gather around the him and the woman. When they saw who she was attacking, they started to egg her on, throwing their own insults and angry expletives at Sam.

When the woman was done, she softly whispered, "Your family has been hiding you for long enough. It's time we got our own justice." She got up and merged herself into the crowd. Sam curled in on himself, throwing his arms in front of his face in terror as the people got nastier and shouted more vicious things at him. Then, one of them men got into the circle and gave Sam a hard kick to his kidneys, making Sam arch back and scream in pain. The crowd cheered as the man applied a few more hard kicks before walked back into the crowd. Every now and then, a rock was thrown, battering his broken body further.

Another man came into the circle, holding a box of matches suggestively. A few others held Sam down as he struck a match, and put it out on Sam's inner leg. Sam screamed and begged as the man continued to put out matches on the tender inside of his legs. Sometimes he would run the match's flame up and down Sam's inner thigh, creating long lines of burns before putting the match out. After he put out the last match, he threw it away and started to slap the tortured area full force to induce great pain, purposefully twisting Sam's right leg painfully away. Sam screamed hysterically and writhed under the other's grips, his begs and pleas going unheard.

_Please..._ Sam silently begged. _Please, God, just make it stop... just make it stop!_

_---_

Dean drove through town, looking desperately for Sam. You'd think it wouldn't be that hard to notice a naked, deformed boy walking around town. But apparently Sam had either hidden himself well, or Dean just hasn't looked hard enough. Assuming Sam didn't have the street-smarts or the instinct to hide himself well, Dean figured he just need to look harder.

It was uncanny, the pull Dean had towards the boy. From the first moment he saw him, Dean felt drawn to him. It wasn't a desire to do the right thing that drove Dean, it was the drive to protect and care for the young teen. _That _young teen. It was the strangest thing. It was similar to the feeling Dean felt towards his father during a hunt. _Make sure nothing happens to him_. Except it seemed to be even _stronger_ than the feeling he had for his father. His own _father!_ Dean shook his head and concentrated on the street. He'd wonder about his feelings later. Right now, he needed to find Sam.

Dean eventually turned a corner and saw about twenty to thirty people gather around something at the end of the street. A bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, Dean parked the Impala and walked up to the crowd. The way they were all acting and screaming reminded Dean of a riot. Dean worked his way through his crowd until he broke through into the middle of the circle.

A young woman was holding a cattle prod and shocking someone at regular intervals. Pathetic screams and sobs mixed with the shouts of encouragement from the riled crowd echoed in Dean's ears and Dean instinctively knew the woman was torturing.

"Get away from him, you bitch!" Dean lunged forward, grabbing the woman by the back of her shirt and yanked her back. All of Dean's insides clenched when he saw Sam, laying naked, bruised and bleeding. His body twitching from the shocks and his eyes were glassy and unfocused.

"Who the hell are you?!" someone from the crowd yelled.

"Get the hell outta here! You don't know nothin'!"

Knowing reason wasn't going to play a part in the crowd's thoughts, Dean grabbed his .45 and swung it around, making sure everyone could see it. "I'm trained in combat and I'm not afraid to shoot anyone who gets near me or Sam!"

The crowd calmed down, though they glared daggers at Dean. Dean kept his eyes on everyone surrounding them as he knelt by Sam and gently rested a hand on his cheek. "Sam, can you hear me?"

Sam had no reaction to the touch except to shy away from it and whimper. Dean felt his anger flare as he stood back up and said, "I'm taking Sam with me! You wanna stop me!? You'll find a bullet lodged into your brains, you animals!" Dean snarled.

The women and younger people looked determined, if a little scared, while the men looking ready to pick a fight with the newcomer. But Dean could tell that none of them wanted to risk their lives for someone they thought shit of. Dean flipped his cell open and called his father. "Dad? I'm at the end of Monroe st. Come pick us up please."

---

John was wondering how to get to Dean and what the hell kinda trouble he was in to need John to pick him up, when he saw the nice black truck parked in front of one of the rich family's house. Everyone in that town being assholes so far, John had no problem hotwiring it and taking it for his own use.

Worrying for his son's safety, John hurried to Monroe st. He was starting to deeply regret his decision of treating Sam so harshly. If Dean got hurt trying to help that poor boy, the blame would rest solely on his shoulders. If he wanted an excuse, he could say he was exhausted when he was dealing with Sam and therefore wasn't thinking straight, but he knew there was no excusing his behavior.

John took a glance at the information he had compiled of Sam Zel and felt another jolt a guilt shoot through him. This kid has had such a horrible life as it was, it was no wonder Sam was constantly worried about doing something wrong. John sighed. He'd make it up to the boy.

But first he had to find them.

As he turned onto Monroe street, he felt his worry jump to panic at the crowd that surrounded his son, who was brandishing his pistol in self-defense. Grabbing his own pistol, he parked the truck and quickly ran to the crowd.

Dean smiled as he saw his father running up. Dean pointed the pistol to the side of the crowd that blocked John's way and growled, "Move."

As that side of the crowd moved, Dean heard a dull thunk and a pained grunt behind him. Dean quickly turned around to Sam, who had a fresh cut on his jaw where a rock had been thrown at it. Sam quickly raised his arms over his head in defense and was reduced to sobs again, thinking that his torture was about to be continued.

"Who threw that!?" Dean yelled angrily. He swiveled the .45 at different people at the crowd. All of them were too scared to admit who had done it. "You better pray it doesn't happen again," he snarled. "Or you will _all_ have a bullet in your head to worry about!"

John ran to the boys, holding his pistol threateningly at the townspeople. He looked at horror at the boy he sent away a mere hour ago. Bruises, cuts, and burns cover his trembling body. He was curled on the ground, his arms covering his face. John could hear the teen's soft whimpers as he got closer. "Dean."

Dean turned his head to his father.

"Take Sam. I'll deal with these assholes."

Dean nodded, giving the sadists around him one final glare before tucking his gun away and kneeling by Sam. He carefully slid his arms under Sam's back and legs. Sam immediately let out sobbing whimpers and tried to curl in on himself even more in an act of self-defense. "Shh... It's okay, now." Dean lifted Sam's body up with difficulty, him being almost the same height as himself. Sam's right leg swung out limply and grotesquely swinging side to side as Dean started to make his way to the Impala.

John slowly backed away from the threatening crowd, keeping his gun trained on them at all times. "We're leaving!" he announced. "If you know what's best you'll let us leave."

"You have no idea who that kid is," one man said. "If you wanna take him, fine! But it won't take you long to realize that taking that freak in was the biggest mistake you ever made!"

John looked back at Dean, who was gently trying to get the traumatized boy into the Impala while making him comfortable. John was amazed at the amount of care Dean had with him, gently wiping the tears away from Sam's face and soothing his cries and struggles.

John looked back at the crowd, who had tortured a handicapped kid almost to the point of catatonia, without any remorse or guilt. John nodded to himself, his resolve set. They were taking Sam in. And away from these monsters.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**I still have writer's block or Regaining Humanity so any suggestions would... be... just... great!  
**

**Enjoy chapter five!  
**

* * *

Knowing his dad would take care of the masses, Dean quickly started the Impala and drove back to the motel to gather their stuff. Dean kept throwing worried glances over at the child next to him. Sam constantly trembled and flinched at every sound and sudden movement that Dean made. Every once and a while he would mumble to himself in a small, scared voice.

Dean tried to ignore Sam's physical health all together. But it was hard to ignore the horrifying, purposefully made, marks that covered his body.

When Dean arrived back at the motel, he turned off the engine and looked fully at his charge. Sam had his good leg curled up to his chest, while his right leg rested by his side. His arms were over his head, covering his face in hear. Dean's heart tugged when he could barely hear soft sobs and whimpers emitting from the young teen.

Dean reached a hand out and gently placed it on Sam's shoulder. As soon as it made contact, Sam curled up tighter on himself, his breathing hitching in fear of more pain. Dean tried to shush the pained sounds as he gently ran a hand through Sam's surprisingly clean hair. "I'll be back in a moment, okay?" he whispered. Dean slowly got out of the Impala so he wouldn't startle Sam with any sudden movements. He locked the doors of the car before running into the motel room and packing all of his father's and his own belongings.

When he came back out, he found, unsurprisingly, that Sam was unchanged. He threw the duffle bags that held the Winchester's belongings into the trunk when his cell rang. Dean turned it on and pressed it to his ear. "Dad?"

"Yeah, Dean I need you to pack all our belongings..."

"Already done. We need to get the hell outta dodge."

"Agreed."

"How's the crowd?"

John looked around at Monroe st, which was empty except for the woman who had the cattle prod and a few other unfortunate bastards. All the others were long gone. John wiped his fingerprints off the cattle prod and threw it away. "Let's just say they got a taste of their own medicine."

Dean smiled. "It's a lot better than they deserve..."

John nodded, not sure about what was going on. People don't usually act like this without a reason. Sam was Caucasian, so it wasn't a matter of racism. Though if Sam has had been... a sex toy... for an entire family, that _could _be an argument for a hate crime against gays, even though Sam could totally be straight since it _was _rape. But that didn't seem like that's what the townspeople were talking about something like that...

_You have no idea who that kid is. If you wanna take him, fine! But it won't take you long to realize that taking that freak in was the biggest mistake you ever made!_

_Freak._ They keep using that word. Now, it might just be because of his injuries, but what if those injuries came after all this started? In fact, they probably did, since John couldn't find any medical record of the scars or the leg.

John had his suspicions about the Zel boy, but wanted to discuss it with Dean before he made any definite conclusions. "Go ahead and start heading to Pastor Jim's. I'm on my way."

"Alright." Dean turned off his cell and climbed into the Impala. Dean gave Sam another worried look as he had not moved a single inch from his original position. Knowing that Sam would at least have awful cramps come when he _did_ move, Dean leaned forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. Sam merely whimpered and shied away from the touch. "Hey, it's okay..." Dean said in a low voice. He started to run his hand through his long hair soothingly. "It's okay...." Sam relaxed a little as Dean continued to smooth out his hair. "Look, Sam, you need to move. Otherwise you're gonna cramp up and hurt even worse, alright?" On getting no response, Dean gently grabbed one of his arm and leg, and gently started to unbend them.

Dean couldn't help now but see the damage done to him. The insides of his legs were red and bleeding from multiple burns and scorch marks. Dean gagged when he saw that most of the torture was focused on Sam's twisted leg. It looks like someone took a switch to it. There were several red, raised lines indicating the torture. His inner thigh was bleeding from when the switch had been hitting it. The bottom of Sam's right foot was black in some areas and burned everywhere else. _That woman must have used that prod solely on his foot for a while..._ Dean closed his eyes and put his rage back for now. Getting angry wouldn't do any good and Sam would probably take it the wrong way.

As Dean started to bring both arms down from Sam's face, he could see where someone thought it'd be funny to wrap a chain around Sam's arms and squeeze them tight until his arms had dark, ugly bruises and were probably fractured. His chest and face seemed to not have suffered any unique punishment, just a beating. They were covered in bruises and small cuts. Sam's lips were swollen and his left eye was blackened and starting to swell.

Sam looked around as his small little world was suddenly expanded to the car. His eyes were still glassy and unfocused. Sam looked around quickly for another torturer and when his eyes fell on Dean, he instinctively backed himself against the car door, his eyes full of fear, but still spread his legs apart for Dean, just in case Dean wasn't here to torture him, but just to use him.

Dean felt tears well up in his eyes at Sam's automatic reaction upon seeing him. "Hey, no, I'm not going to do anything to you." Dean lifted a hand a wiped the tears away from Sam's face. "You don't need to do that anymore..." Dean carefully used his other hand to put his legs back together, the sight almost being to much for Dean to handle.

Sam gave Dean a confused look and his eyes started to focus. "D-De'n..."

Dean smiled. "You recognize me?"

Sam gave a hesitant nod. "Y-your n-n-not g-gonna hu-urt me...?" Sam whimpered out.

Dean shook his head. "No, Sammy... I'm not gonna hurt you."

"W-why...?"

"Because you don't deserve it," Dean said confidently. "Everything these bastards did to you... it's not your fault and it should have never happened to you."

Sam looked down, ashamed. "Y-you d-d-don' e-even kn-now me..." Sam sobbed.

"I don't have to," Dean said. "I can read people," he said in a mock impressive tone, smiling.

Obviously Sam didn't detect the humor. "N-not v-ve-ery w-well..." he whispered.

Dean sighed. He knew that convincing Sam of anything was going to take a long time and that now and here wasn't the place. Dean took off his leather jacket and handed it to Sam. "Here."

Sam looked at Dean uncertainly as he reached out and took the jacket. Sam immediately felt better when he felt the warm jacket in his hand. He brought it up to his chest and snuggled it his face into it. It smelled of gunpowder and something else that Sam couldn't really identify. It was strange the jacket made Sam feel so good. It was just a jacket. But Sam didn't care. He just liked the way it felt.

Dean smiled as Sam held the jacket close to him like a young child would a teddy bear. _Well, at the very least it seems to be a form of comfort for him._ "Okay, Sam I need you to sit back in the seat so we can go, okay?"

Sam nodded and gingerly moved his body back to the right position. Dean nodded as he started to ignition, and drove off.

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**_ATTENTION!!!!_ I made a few minor changes in chapter five. Nothing plot changing, but you may want to reread the last part of the last chapter.  
**

**I still have writer's block or Regaining Humanity so any suggestions would... be... just... great!  
**

**Enjoy chapter six!  
**

* * *

Sam had himself curled against the door of the Impala. He felt like he was in a safe cocoon with Dean's robe now behind his back and Dean's leather jacket clutched tightly to his chest.

But Sam was still scared.

Who knows when all this... _stuff..._ that makes him feel so good, will end. If something he likes happens, something is always expected back. Either that or it ends up not being something he likes. And what about the people of Simmonsville? Would they come after him to punish him more? Would his family decide they want him back? Sam didn't understand why, but he didn't want to go back. He doesn't like the way they make him feel. He didn't like their games. But he _did _owe them. He needed to pay them back for everything they did for him, but Sam was hoping he could pay back another way that didn't make him feel so _bad._

But, no, wait... That's not right. That's selfish on Sam's part. Isn't the point of payback not to back _you _feel good but everyone else? At least, that's what Sam was doing. That's all he knows. So that makes it right, right?

"You hungry?"

Sam jumped a little at Dean's question, caught by surprise. "S-sorry...?" Sam asked quietly.

"Are you hungry? I just got off the phone with my dad. He found a motel for us to stay at and he's getting some food as we speak."

"Oh. O-okay..." Sam unconsciously pressed himself tighter against the door.

Dean noticed the action and felt a little saddened that Sam was still wary of Dean, despite the circumstances.

When Dean pulled into the motel parking lot, Dean parked the car than quickly got out and ran to the trunk. He got out Sam's ratty clothes for him to put on and a pair of his own underwear for him. _Since he doesn't seem to have a pair of his own._

He gently opened the passenger door and handed Sam the clothes. "Here. Put these on."

Sam nodded and took the clothing, looking at the underwear questioningly. "W-whose are th-these...?"

"Mine. Don't worry, I got plenty! But we're gonna need to go out soon and get you some clothes..."

Sam's eyes widened in fear. "Wh-what...?" he asked shakily.

Dean recognized Sam's fear and quickly said, "We don't have to go! We can just send Dad to get some."

"B-but... why?"

"So... you'll have some clothes to wear, Sammy."

Sam flinched. "W-why do I-I need clothes?"

Dean realized the meaning behind that statement and found himself unable to answer. Deciding to go technical, "So you can protect yourself against weather and nature."

Sam frowned. "I-I thought th-that... isn't...?" Sam's frown deepened as his confusion increased.

"What is it, Sam?"

"W-When... Whenever I-I was bad... Dad u-used to tie me t-to the playset in our y-yard without clothes. 'So n-nature can teach you a lesson' he said. He usually k-kept me out there for a d-day an' a night. It was fine though!" Sam quickly added. "They t-took care of me so... It was okay. They even t-took care of me when I-I got sick from hanging in a rainstorm..."

Dean felt the anger grow in his chest. "No, Sam," Dean said firmly. "What they did to you... everything they did to you was NOT okay! They had no right to do those things to you."

Sam looked down at the clothing in his hands. "You don't know that..." he mumbled.

Dean sighed. "Get dressed. Then we'll go in and I'll treat your injuries."

Sam started to stand so he could put on the boxers when he gasped in pain and fell back down on the seat.

"What's wrong!?" Dean asked. Then he remembered how tortured Sam's leg and inner thighs were. "Stupid...!" Dean cursed himself. "Okay, Sam. I'm going to carry you inside, okay?"

Sam looked at Dean with that fearful look. "N-n-no, no.... th-that o-okay... I-I can..." Sam tried to stand again, got a bit straighter than before, before letting out a strangled cry and falling onto the asphalt.

"Sam!" Dean kneeled by boy, who begun to sob. "Hey, hey, it's okay..."

"I'm sorry!" Sam whimpered, clutching Dean's jacket closer to his chest. "I'm so sorry...!"

"It's alright, Sam..." Dean carefully placed an arm around Sam's torso and another under his legs. Sam's flinch away from the touch didn't go unnoticed. Dean carried Sam into the motel room and carefully set him down on what would usually be Dean's bed, the bed farthest from the door. "I'll be right back, Sam. I'm gonna get some stuff from the car." When Sam gave a small nod, he ran back to the Impala and quickly grabbed everything out of the trunk.

As soon as Dean left the room, Sam immediately felt more anxious and fearful. No, Sam was terrified. The air seemed thicker, and the walls seemed to glare down at Sam on the bed, screaming at him at what a dirty, gimpy freak he was. Sam tried to curl on himself, but it was too painful to move his leg. So he half curled, throwing his arms over his head and curling it to his chest, curling his good leg up in the process.

Sam could feel the stick as the people hit his leg hard, over and over again. They screamed at him. Saying what a freak he was. That he was getting off easy. That he deserved every single hit and more. And more he got.

Sam remembered once when he was bring his dad a beer. Sam tripped over his brother's Lunar Model, breaking it and shattering the beer bottle in the process. He fell on top of both of them, receiving dozens of cuts, the alcohol burning them. Sam screamed as he hastily got up and got away from the burning liquid. When his father came in and saw what happened, he started screaming at Sam about how he was a clumsy, useless freak who was spoiled. So, his father grabbed Sam by the wrist and dragged him to his room. He tied Sam to the corner of the bed and started hitting his back with a thin cane. Sam sobbed and pleaded with his father as he continued to hit Sam's back with the hard cane, turning it crimson with blood and dozens of thin lacerations. When his father got tired, he threw the cane aside and left Sam tied to the bed while he went back to the living room to watch football. Sam hung limply, waiting for his brother to get home and inevitably punish him as well. He was lucky that night though. When Sam's brother found out what happened, he let Sam redeem himself by playing 'doll' and pleasuring him all that night.

_It's alright, Sammy. Just play doll for me and I'll forgive you...!_

When Dean stumbled back into the room, he frowned. Sam was laying limply on the bed, his eyes empty and teary, looking at nothing. "Sam?" When he didn't respond, Dean put the stuff down, grabbed the first aide, and sat by the bed. "Sammy?"

Sam's eyes swiveled towards Dean before staring back into space. A single tear escaped.

"Sam...?" Dean leaned forward and wiped the tear away. But Sam didn't even flinch. "Sam, what's...?" Then Dean remembered.

_"I-I'll stay still. No noise, no struggling, no nothing. A doll," Sam said more to himself than to Dean._

"Oh, god, Sam, no! No, no, no, you don't have to do that!" Dean grabbed Sam's head and turned it towards him. "I don't _want _you to do this, Sam!" Dean grabbed his jacket and lay it over Sam's body. "It's okay... you don't have to do this!"

Sam's eyes focused on Dean's face as he spoke. "D-Dean?

"Yeah!"

"I-I'm... I'm n-not in t-t-tr-rouble anym-more...?"

Dean let out a sob as he bent over to touch foreheads with the abused child. "No," he whispered. "You're not in trouble.

---

John pulled up and smiled when he saw the Impala. _Good. Dean's here. _John grabbed the bag of food and got out of the truck. When he entered the motel room, he found Dean helping Sam into his last article of clothing, his shirt.

The kid looked a mess. His left eye was swollen shut. His face didn't have a single patch of unbruised skin. His forearms were wrapped tightly, for fractures by the looks of the wrapping. Any other damage and patching up was covered up by Sam's loose clothing. He held Dean's jacket close to his chest like a security blanket.

Dean didn't look too good either. He looked worn out and emotionally spent. _Maybe taking this kid in wasn't such a good idea... look what it's doing to Dean!_ "Alright," John said, sitting down and dumping the food on the table. "Let's eat."

Before Dean could respond, Sam got down on all fours, the jacket still clutched tightly in his hand, and crawled underneath the table. Dean and John shared bewildered looks. "Sam, what are you doing?" Dean asked.

Sam looked up at Dean, before turning to where John was sitting and stuck a hand between his legs.

"Jesus!" John shouted, jumping up and away from the table. Sam launched himself backwards and flung his arms up in defense. "I'm sorry!" he cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

"What the hell was that for?!" John yelled, a little more than shocked that Sam had done that with his hand.

"Dad!" Dean said sternly as he kneeled behind Sam. He grabbed Sam's arms and ignored Sam's flinch and weak struggles as Dean pulled his arms away from his face. "Sam?"

Sam looked up at teary eyes. "W-what'd I d-do w-wrong?" he squeaked out.

"Nothing, Sammy..." Dean noted how Sam flinched at the name 'Sammy.' _Gotta remember that. _"But can you tell me why you did that?"

Sam looked at Dean confused. "I-I was hungry. But only a little! I-I-I don't need any food!" he stammered. "I-I'll be fine!"

Dean shook his head. "Hey, Samm... Sam. It's okay. You can have some food if you want it."

"I-I can? With-without... d-d-doing anything?"

Dean's eyes widened. "Oh God, did your family make you - "

"B-before I ate," Sam said, "I'd h-have ta wait 'til e-everyone else was done... A-and if I did a-a good job _d-during _dinner m-making everyone happy, th-they'd give me w-what was left."

"Oh, no, Sam. You don't have to do that for us." Dean gently placed his arms under Sam to pick him up. "You can eat with us and have as much as you want." Dean placed Sam in a chair and sat next to him.

John listened to the exchanged between his son and the gimp, and felt sick with himself for acting so rashly to Sam. The kid was already having so much trouble with everything, he didn't need John yelling at him every time he did something _he_ thought was right. John sat back down and noticed how Sam squeezed his son's jacket tighter to his chest and leaned away from him and towards Dean, not that John blamed him.

John placed a burger and fries in front of everyone and he and Dean dug right in. Sam, however, just sat there and stared at them while they ate. He didn't dare _touch_ the food. When he first tried to take something off the table, his family tied him to a chair and force-fed him vinegar and water, burnt food and fats for two days. Every time since, that Sam was caught with food he wasn't supposed to have, he was force-fed vinegar and burnt bread until he threw up. After a while, if Sam merely touched food he wasn't told he could touch, he automatically felt nauseous and threw up on the spot.

Dean had finished half his burger when he noticed that Sam wasn't eating. "Why aren't you eating Sam?" Sam just shook his head. "Go ahead and eat, Sam."

"I-I can have th-this?" Sam wanted to make sure he was given permission before he tried to pick it up.

"Yeah, Sam. That's for you to eat."

Sam nodded and hesitantly picked up the burger. It still felt _wrong._ Sam just couldn't bring himself to unwrap it. Finally, Sam just lifted himself off the chair and sat on the floor at Dean's feet. Dean paused in his eating and gave Sam a sad look, but decided not to say anything for now.

Sam unwrapped his burger and his jaw dropped in shock. It was a _whole_ burger! Both buns, full meat patty and vegetables. Sam hesitated in biting it. He'd never had a _whole anything_ before... And Sam was scared. Anytime Sam tried to see what else he might be able to do, he usually ended up getting punished for it. And Sam wasn't sure if this would be one of those times or not. Sam didn't think Dean would do anything, but Dean's father... Sam wasn't so sure. So, Sam played it safe by eating only the tomato and onions. That's what was usually left for him when his family ate. Occasionally one of them would leave a bit of the bun but usually it was just some of the veggies.

Dean felt a deep sadness set in as Sam picked out only a few of the vegetables. Sam's breathing was quick, and his movements were jerky, as if he expect someone to come up behind him and hit the small tomato out of his hand. When Sam felt confident enough he popped it in his mouth and quickly chewed and swallowed, his body tensed up as if expecting a blow. _This goes beyond torture. His family had complete control over this kid and had no problem proving it to him. I swear, if I ever find his family, I'm gonna make _them_ crawl._

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**Enjoy chapter seven!  
**

* * *

Dean pulled up the covers on the bed where Sam was sleeping and placed them over Sam's shoulder. _'Sleeping' is loose term... 'Collapsed' is more appropriate._ Sam still had his jacket curled tightly to his chest. Even in his sleep he looked guarded, tensed up and scared. Dean mentally prepared himself for inevitable nightmares.

John sat at the table waiting for Dean to the motherhen routine with the teen. John shook his head. He had no idea how he was going to do this. Being a 'supportive' person was not his forte. But John knew he was going to have to be more patient and not have those automatic bursts of shouts when Sam did something unexpected. _Easier said than done._

When Dean was satisfied that Sam was comfortable for now, he got up to sit next to his father. "Alright... what now?"

"Now..." John slid a manilla folder to him, "you start reading up."

"What's this?"

"Everything I could find on Sam Zel." John shook his head in disgust. "That poor kid's had to go through some unbelievable stuff."

Dean opened the folder and the first thing he saw was an old photo of a small toddler sucking his fingers, his eyes big and scared.

"His family isn't his real family. Sam was found on the street when he was two. No one knows who his real parents were. It's assumed they were only teenagers who didn't have the means to take care of him. Naturally, he was placed in the foster care system. Shortly after, he was taken in by Emily and Ned Nelson. When Sam was five, however, no one had seen any of the Nelsons for a week, so police broke in to see what was wrong."

"And..." Dean egged on. "What was wrong?"

John sighed. "It's... confusing. The report is... strange, to say the least."

"Strange like... how?'"

"Well, they found both the Nelson's dead. Emily Nelson was beaten to death, Ned Nelson had a broken neck. It looks like Ned had beaten his wife to death. The husband's death is a mystery. They think because he was drunk at the time of his death that he must have fallen and hit his head in a certain way, but they weren't sure."

"How is that strange...? You know what, nevermind, I don't care. What about Sam?" Dean asked. "Where was he?"

John's face darkened. "Sam was found naked, beaten up and tied to a radiator in the same room. Sam had been tied to the _functioning_ radiator for a week with only two bloody corpses as company. According to a medical examiner, he was severely traumatized with the witnessing of the deaths and accompaniment of corpses for a week, but managed to mostly recover after awhile. When Sam was found, he was severely dehydrated and malnourished. It was suspected that Ned Nelson had been extremely abusive, while his wife was extremely negligent. Also, his left arm and side suffered third degree burns from being tied to a radiator and... we've seen that it's left scarring."

Dean turned to look at the slumbering boy. _My god..._ "So what happened after that."

"That..." John said as he shifted through the papers, "Is where things get really confusing. The case was never solved and Sam was _supposed_ to have gone back into the system but... he kinda disappeared. The last record I could find of him was that he was supposed to go to be questioned by the police once he was mentally healthy enough but... there was not even an investigation into his disappearance, heck, there wasn't anything to indicate that he ever _existed _after that!"

Dean clenched his fists in anger. How could people just let a boy who had the shit beaten out of him and was obviously mentally fragile just disappear and let him _remain_ gone? Did people really care that little? Dean looked back down at the photos that were taken when they found Sam tied to the radiator. Five years old... _Five years old...!_ A naked, little boy, beaten almost as badly as his older self now, was staring at the camera with wide, terrified eyes. It was a pathetic sight really. His tearstained face was much to young to look so haunted and gaunt. Even in the still photo, Dean could see Sam shrinking away from people, slipping in the pile of his own excrement. He could _hear_ Sam's small whimpers as they got closer and finally untied him and pulled him away from the burning metal.

Dean took a deep, _very_ deep breath and said, "So what do you think?"

John gave Dean an uncertain look. "About what, exactly?"

"About what happened to Sam. How he ended up with that twisted new 'family' of his!"

John shook his head. "I don't know, son. We'll probably never know until Sam has the courage to tell us..."

"And that's another thing... where the hell did those foster people come up with 'Zel' as a last name?"

John grunted in agreement. "Probably just came up with it randomly. At least they didn't name him 'John Doe'..."

"Mmm..." Dean looked back at Sam. Sam's fingers had made his way to his mouth and he was peacefully sucking on them. Dean sighed as he remembered the photo of when Sam was a toddler, doing the exact same thing. _God, he's never really had a chance to grow up, has he...? Well that's gonna change starting now._

_---_

_"Sammy..." his mother said in a singsong voice._

_Sam obediently stood and limped over to his mother._

_"Be a dear, and help me out. I soooo stressed right now..."_

_Sam nodded as he grabbed her skirt and stuck his head between her legs._

_A while later, his mother was straightening her clothes out. "Now, what do you say, Sammy?"_

_"Thank..." Sam paused._

_"Sammy, what do you say?" she asked again, her anger starting to grow._

_"Is it bad if I lie?" Sam asked. Because in Sam's mind, if it is bad, than he can't say what his mom wants him to say._

_His mother stared at him for a moment before walking to the closet. Sam immediately shrank back in fear, knowing the things that were kept in the closet. She came back out with a gag. It was large and black. The sight of it made Sam feel lightheaded. "You know you can't ask questions without permission, Sammy," she said with a deadly calm._

_"I'm sorry, Mommy!" Sam begged. "Please! It won't happen again! Please!"_

_She just shook her head as she bent down and stuck the rubber part in between his lips. It filled his entire mouth and forced his jaw to remain all the way open. She brought the straps around his head and locked it with a small padlock. "You'll keep this on for three days unless we wish to use you. Is that clear?"_

_Sam nodded, perfecting understanding since he _did_ misbehave. Still, he always felt suffocated and slightly claustrophobic with the gag on._

_"Good. Now go on. Greg still has to give you his punishment for doing his math homework wrong."_

_Sam silently got up and walked to Greg's room. Greg was pacing back and forth, waiting for Sam's arrival. Sam made his presence known by knocking on the door._

_"Finally! Get in here and lay on the bed, you lazy freak!"_

_Sam nodded and got face-up on the bed, dragging his right leg up with difficulty. "Alright... The assignment was thirty questions, twenty-three of which you got wrong..." Greg said more to himself than to Sam. "After everything I do..." he mumbled. "I take care of you, don't I, Sammy?"_

_Sam nodded. It was true. Out of his entire family, his brother was his favorite. He cared for Sam. Greg only asked for assistance in homework and the regular pleasing in return. But apparently, Sam just couldn't deliver._

_Greg grabbed the switch and said, "Now, normally, I would have you count, but since I like you with your gag in... I'll just raise the amount to an even thirty so it's easier to keep count, 'kay?" Sam nodded. Greg smiled as he brought his arm up and hit Sam on the thigh. Sam let out a muted scream and tears started to fall. Greg was at least more gentle than his father. Greg made sure never to break the skin. He only left dark purple bruises._

_Greg continued his punishment for another hour, spending much time between each stroke to tell Sam how disappointed he was, and how he should have known not to expect so much from a twisted freak like him... After the thirtieth stroke was given, Greg gently caressed the bruised flesh. Sam raised his arms hopefully, and Greg swept Sam up in a hug. This was Sam's favorite part. Greg was the only one who hugged him and although Sam liked it, he still felt like something was _wrong_. "I hate hurting you, Sam," Greg whispered. "I love more than anything. But this is how brotherhood works. Especially since you're not really good for anything else. I take care of you this way, and you take care of me in your way. It evens out. True brotherhood." Greg lowered a hand to Sam's groin and started his daily molestation.  
_

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	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**Enjoy chapter eight!  
**

* * *

Sam woke up with a gasp. Feeling bile collect in his mouth, he bent over the side of the bed and threw up the vegetables he consumed earlier. After Sam's dry heaves stopped, he stared in horror at the mess he made. _Oh god! I-I'm gonna be in trouble!_ Ignoring the pain shooting through his body, Sam quickly got up and knelt over the pile of half-digested food.

"Sam?"

Sam's head shot up and his eyes met Dean. He felt the familiar feeling of confusion when he only saw concern, and not anger in Dean's eyes.

Dean watched helplessly as Sam threw up, knowing Sam might take any unexpected touches the wrong way. As soon as the dry heaves stopped, Sam's facial expression turned to fear and he quickly got up the bed and bent over his vomit. "Sam?" When Sam looked up in confusion, Dean had the sick realization that Sam was about to consume his own vomit. Dean quickly knelt next to Sam and put an arm between Sam's chest and the mess. "It's okay, Sam. I'll take care of it. You get back in the bed."

Still confused, Sam nodded and did as the older teen said. Dean grabbed some paper towels and quickly cleaned the mess up while talking to Sam. "My dad went out to get some more clothes for you. They might be a little big on you but they'll be better than what you have on now..." When Dean finished cleaning the mess, he sat down next to Sam on the bed. He ran the new information he had on the boy through his head as he gave Sam a once over. Sam wasn't showing any signs of infections and he didn't seem to be in much pain. Dean cringed. _Sam's probably just used to the pain._

Sam looked so young as he stared up at Dean with big eyes, waiting for something. Probably an order of some sort. Dean sighed. "Well, we've got some free time on our hands. What do ya wanna do?"

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion. "What _would _I wanna do?"

Dean hid his surprise at the question and said, "Well, we could watch tv, play cards... or we just talk."

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "R-remember... when you said... that I could ask you a question?"

"Yeah."

"Okay... Then, why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you..." Sam indicated the entire room. "All this! And you! Why me?"

"Why you what, Sam? I don't understand..."

Sam sighed as a single tear ran down his face, unawares. "Why are you treating me like this?"

Dean bit his lip, knowing this was going to be hard to explain. "Sam, I know the world you grew up in, the way people treated you, that's all you know. But Sam, I'm telling you that that's not the way they _should_ have treated you. The other kids your age, did you ever see them treated the way people treated you?"

Sam shook his head. "But... they're not like me. They aren't twisted freaks like me," Sam said plainly.

Dean nodded his head towards Sam's leg. "How _did _that happen?"

Sam's eyes darkened. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

Sam bent his head down in shame. "'Cause I like the way your treating me. As selfish as it sounds, I _like_ it!" Sam started to sob. "I'll do _anything_! You ever want anything, I'll do it! I swear!"

"Hey, hey, hey! It's okay! You don't have to do anything!"

Sam shook his head, biting his lip in an attempt to stop his tears. "But that's not _right!_ I have to do _something!_"

Dean brought a hand up to wipe the tears off of Sam's face, feeling a small victory when Sam didn't flinch away. "No, you don't. Besides, what does that have to do with your leg?"

Sam sniffed, feeling a strange warmth fill him up inside as Dean continued to wipe his tears away. "I-if I told you what happened, you wouldn't like me anymore and you'd leave. If you leave, I don' think I'll ever feel like this again..." he whispered sadly.

"I seriously doubt that I'd ever _not_ like you, Sam."

And Sam seriously wanted the subject to change. "D-Dean...?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask another question?"

"You can ask as many as you want."

"What were you doing in Simmonsville?"

Dean froze. That was something he _hadn't _been thinking about. John and Dean have been hunting supernatural entities for the last thirteen years and suddenly there's a third member to the team. And if Dean wanted to take care of Sam, he'd have to tell him about that world. _Oh man! Like the kid hadn't gone through enough! This is gonna be complicated..._

When Sam saw Dean freeze at his question, Sam immediately started to panic. "I'm sorry!" Sam quickly amended. "You don't hafta answer!" Sam's eyes widened when he realized he just told Dean what to do. "Oh, god! Sorry! I-I didn't mean it! I'm sorry...!" Knowing apologies never got Sam anywhere, his hands shot down to his pants and he started to pull them down so he could receive his punishment.

"Sam, no!" Dean gently grabbed Sam's wrists, mindful of his fractures, and pulled them up away from his pants.

Sam looked up at Dean with terrified eyes. He started to cry as he asked fearfully, "D-did I d-do somethin' w-wrong...?"

"No, Sam. But I think we need to lay down a few things."

"Rules?"

"Yeah, rules. First and foremost, you don't _ever_ have to take your clothes off for us. You never need to touch us like that, or do anything of the sort ever again."

"B-but... what if I d-do somethin' bad...?"

"I doubt you'll ever do anything _bad_ Sam. And if you do, there are other ways of dealing with it. Like no dessert," Dean smiled.

"N-never had d-dessert before..."

Dean immediately felt guilty, berating himself for not figuring out that Sam's probably never had any simple pleasures. "Well, I think that's likely to change."

Sam shook his head. Greg had given him a cookie once. When his mom found him with it, she exploded, taking the cookie away before Sam had even tasted it. She spent that night alternating between having Sam between her legs and stuffing charcoal-like cookies and rotten milk down his throat. _You want some cookies? I made **these** cookies just for you, Sammy, my dear..._

"Second, I want you to know, that you can tell me anything. I won't judge you or hurt you in anyway."

"Really? Anything?" Sam asked unbelievingly.

"Anything."

Sam was almost ready to tell Dean everything. Every feeling, every fear, everything that had ever happened to him. But Dean knew so little about him, that Sam was certain that Dean wouldn't be able to follow the rules once he did know. But that's okay. Sam was used to everyone breaking the rules. It was okay as long as he didn't.

"I guess that's all for now," Dean said. "Now... what to talk about now..." Dean jumped as his cell rung. "I'll be right back, okay Sam?"

Sam nodded. Dean walked back into the bathroom and spoke in a low voice. "Caleb?"

"Hey, Dean! Did you finish that job over in Nowheresville?"

"Yeah..."

"Good. Look I think your old man's got his cell turned off so could you tell him to call me?"

"Dad'll be back in a bit. I'll tell him then... why?"

"Got this new job lined up and..."

"Caleb, look I don't think we can take another case right now."

"I know you're probably tired from your last gig, but I think this may involve... you know, your mother."

Dean froze. "W-what do you mean?!"

"In Indiana. There have been these rash of deaths with people whose eyes have bled out of there skull. Sound familiar?"

Dean's knuckles turned white as his grip on the phone got tighter and tighter with every word. "Caleb, tell me _everything!_"

Sam was waiting patiently for Dean to finish his hushed conversation in the bathroom when the front door opened. John stumbled in with a bag of clothes and dinner. "Dean! Give me a hand, will ya...!" When John looked, he only saw Sam sitting on the bed, fear growing in his eyes. _Okay, awkward situation..._

A deep pit planted itself in Sam's stomach at the sight of Dean's father. Sam's immediate reaction was to walk up to the man he had caused do much trouble and strip himself for him as penance. But then he remember Dean's number one rule. _But he didn't tell his dad the rules. So how would he know?_ _Will he get made if I just sit here and do nothing? I have to make it up somehow..._ But when Sam tried to get up, the bottom of his right foot screamed in pain and Sam fell to the floor before he could control himself. Tears sprang to his eyes as his foot continued to sting and throb.

When John saw Sam fall, he quickly put the bags down and went to help him. Sam looked up and saw John advancing on him and completely forgot Dean's rules altogether and instinctively pulled his pants and boxers off.

"Kid...!" John tried to think of a way to stop Sam without scaring him or making Sam take it the wrong way. "Sam, it's okay! You don't have to do that!"

Sam had pulled himself back on the bed, wearing only his shirt now. When he heard Dean's father, he looked at the man in confusion. _Is he like Dean? But... he doesn't act like Dean at all. So doesn't that mean he's different than Dean...?_ Having trouble comprehending the situation, Sam spread his legs apart and looked at John expectantly. The bandages on his inner thighs stretched and started to pull off his skin. Sam ignored them as he held his member up to John, like he'd been trained to do.

John's first instinct was to yell and scream at the kid on how stupid and perverted he's acting. But seeing how it ended up the _last_ time, John kept himself under control. "Look, kid, I don't want to _do_ anything to you. It's just sick."

Sam shoulders fell. _Of course. He knows what's happened to me. He doesn't want a dirty, little freak like you! Didn't you hear him? He just said you make him sick! Not really surprising of course._.. _Dean's just the oddball. Most people think you're disgusting and gross._

John didn't notice Sam's train of thought, mistaking the slump of his shoulders as relief. "Understand? Good. Now, can you tell me where Dean is? And for heaven's sake, put your pants back on!"

The harsh tone had Sam scrambling for his boxers and pants. While trying to put them on, Sam lost his balance and fell to the floor again, this time, feeling every torture inflicted on him earlier that day. His leg and forearms screamed at him while his chest felt like it was on fire. He whimpered and sobbed as he curled in a small ball in an attempt to somehow numb the pain.

John just stared at the crying boy at the base of the bed, his boxers only halfway on. Not knowing what else to do, John grabbed a blanket off the bed and lay it over the child, to maybe save him what dignity he may have left.

"What happened?!"

John looked towards the bathroom where Dean stood staring at them, shocked as hell at the sight.

"Dad!?"

"H-he fell..."

"He fell how?!" Dean ran to Sam's side and gently placed a hand on his cheek. "Hey, it's okay now. It's okay now..."

"He thought I wanted to... do things." John sat back, allowing his son to take care of the young charge. "When I told him to put his pants back on, he fell."

Dean closed his eyes in sadness as he carefully lifted Sam up and lay him on the bed.

"D-Dea..."

"Hey, you okay?"

Sam shook his head. "H-hurts..."

"I know. It's okay..." Dean sighed. "I'm gonna have to check your bandages. Make sure they're staying put." Sam nodded, tears still falling from his hopeless eyes.

Dean pulled up the blanket and immediately saw a small amount of blood dripping from his thighs. Dean carefully peeled off the bandages and applied ointment to the area to prevent infection. After he reapplied new bandages, Dean gave everything else a once over. Once he was satisfied, he helped Sam pull up his boxers over his injuries and bandages. Dean put the blanket back over Sam and noticed that Sam had fallen asleep during Dean's ministrations. Dean smiled. "Sleep well," he whispered.

* * *

**Let's end a chapter on a happy note, shall we? REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**Enjoy chapter nine!  
**

* * *

Dean sat by Sam's bed, watching him sleep. Just watching. He just couldn't let Sam out of his sight. His young charge was curled up as best he could with that same guarded, terrified demeanor about him. His fingers found their way back to his mouth, and he was even sucking them like a terrified child. Dean sighed. There was so much more that he did and absolutely didn't want to know about Sam. _What happened after Sam disappeared? Why did the entire town hate Sam so much? Who was his 'family'? Who were his real parents?_ Dean knew Sam couldn't answer the last one but it still made Dean wonder. He shook his head. Kicking Sam out of their home when he was a toddler was the worst mistake they ever Dean remembered how the report said that his parents were most likely only teenagers. _If you aren't ready for a kid, make sure you take the proper precautions!_ Now Dean understood why his dad was so adamant about using condoms.

Dean was brought back into reality by a small moan. Sam's head was twitching side to side slightly at regular intervals. His moans started to turn into whimpers. "Sam, wake up..." Dean hesitantly placed a hand on Sam's cheek. When it resulted in no negative reactions, Dean rubbed his thumb across Sam's cheek. "Hey, it's okay... just wake up now..." It garnered no effect. The younger teen's head just continued to twitch, trapped in some nightmare.

---

_"That's it!" his father yelled. "I have had it!"_

_Six-year-old Sam cowered back as his father exploded. He had been sucking his father's member when he dropped dead asleep. Sam still wasn't used to so little sleep and had a habit of collapsing at random moments. This last time was the last straw for his father._

_"It's time you learned how to stay awake, Sammy." He grabbed the child's arm roughly and dragged him into the backyard. Sam had an idea of what his father was planning and was glad that it was summer. That meant he wouldn't freeze over night._

_But his father did something new. He dragged Sam to the cellar and threw him down before descending himself. He grabbed Sam and slammed him on the work table. His father grabbed four thin pieces of rope and tied each of Sam's wrists and ankles to each leg of the table, being careful not to twist Sam's bad leg the wrong way. When his father left his sight, Sam breathed a sigh of relief. This wasn't so bad as a punishment._

_SPLASH!_

_Sam gasped as a tub of freezing water was dumped on his naked body. He started to tremble as his father appeared in the line of sight again with another bucket. "What do you say, Sammy?"_

_"'M nothing b-but a tw-wisted d-dirty freak an' th-this is wh-what I d-deserve..."_

_"Good." He dumped the second bucket of water on Sam, leaving Sam gasping desperately for air. Sam started to sob as the coldness stung the more sensitive parts of his body. His father climbed up on the table and started to play with Sam genitals, electing sobs from the boy. "You awake now, Sammy boy!?"_

_"Y-yes, daddy..." Sam cried._

_"Good."_

_Sam froze in fear as his father left his spectrum of sight. He listened hard to his father's rustling, trying to figure out what he was doing._

_He would find out all too soon._

_His father hung a hose over a beam in the ceiling and positioned it over Sam's head. Barely any water was coming out of the hose. Just a slow _drip, drip, drip..._ onto Sam's forehead. Sam flinched a little as the freezing water droplets hit his head._

_"I'm gonna leave you here for the night. See ya in the morning, son." His father walked out of the cellar and shut and locked the doors, leaving Sam in absolute darkness._

Drip, drip, drip, drip...

_"This i-isn't s-so ba-ad..." Sam muttered to himself, still trembling from the cold._

_The next morning, Greg came down to check on his little brother. Greg came down into the cellar and smirked at the sight. Sam's eyes were bloodshot, a constant stream of tears coming down the sides of his face and onto the table. He was so delirious and didn't even recognize his brother when he stood over him. All Sam could hear, see, feel... was the constant _drip, drip, drip, drip..._ And he couldn't escape it._

_Greg smiled as he stripped himself and climbed up on the table. He grabbed Sam's chin and gently forced his mouth open. "I like this..." Greg said to himself. "I can just bring you down here and do this if I want total control over you. You're like a doll..." Greg carefully inserted himself into Sam's throat, giving a small laugh of triumph when Sam remained unchanged. Greg worked himself in deeper and deeper, pumping so hard Sam's entire body jerked in unison with his own. He finally shot his load into Sam's throat and extracted himself. "Maybe I can train you to be like this on demand... what do you think, Sammy?" Greg asked as he roughly grabbed Sam's penis and started to pump._

_Sam's head just twitched side to side as the water continued to _drip, drip, drip, drip...

---

Sam's eyes snapped open. He lay there numb for a few moments before starting to hyperventilate as he remembered his nightmare.

"Sam?"

Sam's eyes suddenly saw someone hovering above them. _Oh no! I'm in trouble again!_ Sam flung the blankets off and started to pull down his boxers.

"Sam, no! It's okay! Remember? You don't have to do that anymore...!"

Sam looked back up and his eyes focused. "D-Dean...?"

Dean smiled as he reached down and gently pulled Sam's boxers back up. "Hey kiddo, you alright?"

Sam gave a shaky nod, knowing that no other response was wanted from him.

Dean looked at Sam skeptically as he placed the blankets back over Sam's body. "Remember rule number two? You can tell me anything."

Sam just lay there trembling, considering this. Sam wanted to try out the rule, but he was scared. Though, Dean _did_ let him ask questions before... maybe this would be okay, too.

"I... I-I was... I don't..." Sam started to sob. He didn't know _how_ to express himself. He was always supposed to be silent. Saying only what was expected of him to say. Sam tried again. "I don't... I-I don't...." He just shook his head, tears running down his face. He brought his hand up and started sucking on his fingers, soft sobs making their way through every so often. His other hand was pressed against his forehead and his eyes were glassy and unfocused as he tried to make sense out of this new freedom. What was he supposed to do with it? What was it exactly? Is it even possible to do? If he can't do it, will Dean be mad with him?

Dean felt his sadness grow as Sam started to zone out and suck on his fingers. He looked years younger than his actual age and it made Dean physically hurt. Dean sighed as he tentatively placed a hand on Sam's head, unsure of what his reaction would be. Sam gave a little flinch, but remained otherwise unchanged. Dean started to stroke the young teens hair, in hopes of calming him down. "Hey... it's okay. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

_I want to... I want to so badly. I just don't know how! _Then Sam realized, even if he was so confused he was fearful, he felt _better._ He had never been allowed to act like this freely in front of anyone before. He did this once in front of Greg. But Greg just grabbed the hand Sam was sucking on and beat it with a stick until all his fingers were broken. So Sam assumed that it was a bad thing. But Dean... Dean was different. Sam felt a small warmth on the side of his head as the older teen stroked his hair. It wasn't like the way his mother did it, harsh and dominating. The way Dean did it made Sam feel good.

Sam was doing what he _wanted_... and all he was being offered now was comfort and not punishment.

Sam's sobs started to subside as he realized this. He slowly removed his fingers from his mouth and looked up at Dean, uncertain on how to take the situation.

Dean smiled. "Feel better, kiddo?"

Sam nodded, confused at how _true_ it felt. Usually when he nodded, it was an automatic reaction. Only half the times he did it held some semblance of honesty. But now, Sam did it on his own. Because he truly meant it.

---

John was outside, pacing back and forth.

He had just gotten off the phone with Caleb and according to Caleb, the thing that killed Mary might be in Indiana.

He had to take this lead. This is the first clue they had on Mary's killer since she was killed. They might not get another chance like this. _Sam just gonna have to suck it up because I'm sure Dean'll agree with me._

With this in mind, he went back into the motel room. Dean was drinking a beer while Sam was sitting up in the bed, staring into space. "Dean."

Dean stopped mid-swig and gave his father a blank look. "So... we're going?"

John smiled. "We have to if we wanna find your mother's killer." John expected Dean to look excited, happy, vengeful. But instead Dean kept that same blank look on his face as he turned to look at Sam. John sighed. _That kid is gonna be more trouble than he's worth. I can tell already..._ "So you just gonna stand there or are ya gonna pack your crap?"

Dean nodded and quickly finished off the beer. Sam got out of the bed, suppressing a pained whimper when the bottom of his foot hit the floor.

Dean noticed Sam grimace in pain and quickly ran to his side and gently forced him back on the bed. "You stay here until we're ready to leave. I don't want you walking on that leg until it's better, okay?"

"I-it's o-okay," Sam assured, determined to show he's not a useless freak. "I-I can..."

"I'm sure you can," Dean said. "But I don't _want _you to, okay?"

Sam nodded, still utterly confused by Dean's behavior.

When everything was packed up in the Impala and truck (John liked it, so decided to keep it. Dean was thrilled that the Impala was now officially his.) Dean came up to Sam and said, "My dad's checking us out now." He kneeled by Sam and pointed to his leg. "I don't want you hurting yourself so I think I should just carry you to the car, okay?" When Sam gave a shaky nod, Dean carefully put his arms under Sam's knees and back, being careful of Sam's leg. Sam grimaced as his injuries were pulled, but found that he liked this. How Dean was cradling him gently to his chest made Sam feel warm and small butterflies started to flutter in his stomach.

Dean already had the Impala door open so he just gently placed Sam on the seat, making sure Sam's leg was bent up next to him. When Sam was comfortable, Dean looked up and saw his dad sitting in the truck waiting for him. Dean ran to the driver's seat, and they drove off.

* * *

**Let me know if I'm going to fast or too slow with any aspect of the story. REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**Man, this is a LONG chapter! Somehow, I don't think any of you will mind...  
**

**Enjoy chapter ten!  
**

* * *

It was a three hour jouney to their destination. About an hour and a half into the trip, when they stopped for a bathroom break, it dawned on Dean that he hadn't seen Sam go to the bathroom once since they met. Dean looked over at the teen in question. Sam was leaning against the window, sleeping peacefully for once. He had Dean's jacket tucked up to his chest, where it's been since Dean handed it to him twenty minutes into the trip. Dean leaned over and gently shook Sam awake. Sam blinked a few times before turning his head towards Dean. Dean saw a thin line of drool connecting Sam's lip with his hand and Dean realized that Sam had been sucking his fingers again.

"'M I in trouble...?" Sam mumbled sleepily.

Dean sighed as he shook his head. "No, Sam. You're not in trouble. Do you need to go to the bathroom?" Sam shook his head. "I see..." Dean looked at the sharpness of Sam's cheekbones and elbows and the way his clothes sagged on his sharp shoulders and made a decision. "Sam, can you wait here for a sec?" Sam gave Dean a fearful look. "Don't worry. I'm just going into the store. See?" Sam turned towards the gas station convenience store and slowly nodded. "You'll be able to see me, and I'll be able to see you. Nothing will happen to you, okay?"

Sam bit his lip as tears started to form in his eyes. He didn't want Dean to go. Even having Dean at close proximity made Sam feel a world safer. Sam quickly berated himself. How selfish of him was that? His feelings don't mean a damn thing! If Dean wants to go in, then Dean should go in! If Sam wanted to kill himself if Dean left, it shouldn't matter! Why Dean was reassuring him was a mystery to Sam, because he sure wasn't worth it.

Sam nodded and Dean smiled. "I'll be back as soon as possible." And Sam felt immensely guilty for wanting Dean to just stay next to him.

Dean got out of the car and quickly ran inside to get a few things. First off, Gatorade. Sam was bound to be extremely dehydrated so Dean got a few. For a moment, Dean was contemplating what flavor Sam likes, but then quickly realized that Sam's probably never had anything like this before. So Dean grabbed a few blue ones, since they were always his favorite. He also grabbed a few bottles of water for good measure. Next, food. Sam seemed to have trouble eating big amounts of things at a time so Dean grabbed a few bags of Doritos, barbecue chips, and for good measure and to Dean's distaste, dried fruit.

Dean kept glancing outside making sure Sam was okay. It unnerved him a little when he realized that Sam had his eyes glued on him, following him through the store. But then again, it wasn't unexpected. Dean carried the food and drinks, with great difficulty, to the check out where his father was.

"You're gonna have all that?" John asked skeptically.

"No. Sam hasn't eaten or drank anything since we _met_ him."

"He ate those vegetables out of that burger."

"He threw that up, Dad."

"He did? Oh... well, get some stuff for yourself too. We've got another hour and a half or so until we get there."

"Don't worry." Dean grabbed five bags of peanut M&Ms from under the counter and threw them into the pile. "I'll be good."

John gave an amused shake of the head as he took out 'his' credit card. Or more specifically, John Gillian's credit card.

When all was paid for and bagged, they headed back to their vehicles. John's truck was getting filled up on the other side of the store, so they temporarily parted ways. As Dean got closer to the Impala he noticed a man leaning over it, looking into the window of the passenger seat.

"Hey!" Dean yelled. "Get the hell away from my car!"

The man jumped back, and Dean could see Sam squeezing the jacket to his chest like there was no tomorrow, his eyes watery and fearful.

Dean quickly ran up and shoved the man away. "The hell do you think you're doing!?"

The man quickly lifted his arms in surrender. "Hey, man! Sorry if I scared ya! I saw ta kid lookin' inside the store awll panicky an' thought 'e couldn' fin' someone..." The man's eyes swiveled to the car momentarily before returning to Dean. "Ees 'e okay?"

Dean softened when he realized the man was just worried about the kid. _Not everyone in the world's a scumbag._ "He's been through some trauma, but I'm making sure he's getting better."

The man smiled and put his arms when he realized the teen wasn't going to attack him. "Sorry 'bout that, 'gain." The man turned and went back to his own car, throwing over his shoulder. "Bes' take care that brother o' yours now!"

Dean froze in entering his own car. _Brother?_ "Oh, he's not my - " Dean stopped. He looked down at the young teen inside the car who was looking at Dean with large, desperate eyes. Dean smiled. "Thank you! I will!" he yelled back.

Sam ignored the exchanged between Dean and the man and completely narrowed his focus to Dean. Sam was beyond scared when the man slapped a hand on the car window and said, "'Ey Scarface! Ya lookin' for someone?" Sam was so scared he had done something wrong, or worse, that this man already knew what he had done before and wanted to punish him like the people in Simmonsville. The actual words didn't even register. Just a man, who inevitably wanted Sam for either pleasure or punishment. Then Dean showed up and Sam felt desperation claw at him. Desperation for Dean to come back in the car, and make it feel safe.

When Dean finally did get in, Sam's breathing slowed to normal and his grip on Dean's jacket started to loosen.

"Hey, you okay, Sammy?"

Sam gave a slight flinch before giving a shaky nod. Dean gave him a skeptic look as he reached into the bag and pulled out one of the Gatorades and a bag of Doritos. "Here, Sam. I want you to eat and drink _all _of this."

Sam looked at the food in wonder. "Wh-what is it?" Sam asked.

Dean blinked a little then jumped as John honked his horn at them. Dean tossed the food and Sam's feet and started the ignition. "One moment, Sam..." Dean pulled out of the gas station and followed his father until they were back on the long stretch of empty road. Dean reached over and picked up the bag of Doritos. "These are chips. They're good, trust me."

Sam frowned. "For me?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, this is all for you." He indicated the plastic bag.

Sam looked at the plastic bag and felt sick at all the stuff in it. "I-I can't have this!"

"What? Why not?"

"I-I don't deserve any of this! Y-you eat... a-a-a-and if there's any of it you don' want.." Sam paused. "Y-you can jus' throw it out."

Dean felt that familiar pit of sadness. "Sam... you have to eat. And drink for that matter, when was the last time you had water?"

Sam blinked. It hadn't even occurred to him that he hadn't had water in a while. "I-I had some in a stream... b-before we met..."

"Jesus, kid, you seriously need this! It's not good for you to go this long without food or water! Aren't you hungry and thirsty?"

The honest answer would be yes. But Sam learned a long time ago that that answer usually got him less food and water. So he shook his head.

Dean sighed. He grabbed one of the water bottles instead. "Drink this, Sam."

It wasn't a request. It was an order. And Sam was conditioned too well to ignore an order. Sam grabbed the bottle out of Dean's hand and unscrewed the top. Bringing it to his lips, he downed half the bottle before taking a quick breath and quickly draining the rest.

Dean felt a little guilty, seeing Sam comply so robotic-ly to Dean's tone of voice. But Sam _did _drink it, Dean noted. Now he knew. If he need Sam to do something, use an order. But Dean would be _damned_ before he took advantage of that knowledge. Dean sighed. _He needs to eat too... _Dean leaned forward and grabbed on of the bags of dried fruits, suddenly thinking that Sam's stomach might appreciate the less processed food. At least of first. He handed the bag to Sam and said, "Eat one handful of this, Sam."

Recognizing another order, Sam automatically took the bag from Dean and carefully opened it. He grabbed a small handful out and hesitantly ate it, piece by piece. Sam paused after he ate the first piece. He couldn't believe that it was something that tasted so good! It was sweet and chewy and seemed to make Sam's taste buds dance.

Dean saw Sam look at the dried fruit with a heartbreakingly surprised look as he ate the dried fruits. "You like them, Sam?"

Sam automatically nodded. This was so surprising to Sam. Usually when his family ordered him to eat something that wasn't leftovers, it wasn't food. Once his little sister, Kate, made Sam eat dry flour. He ate half a bag of it before he threw up all over Kate's dress. When his mother found out, she took the dress off of her daughter and gave it to Sam. _Eat what came out, Sammy, and lick it until it's clean!_ Three hours later, after his mother thought Sam did a sufficient job, she asked him if he liked it. And of course, nothing was accepted except a nod.

Sam started to gag at the memory. The water he had consumed earlier was started to come up in the form of sour bile.

When Dean saw Sam starting to gag, he immediately pulled over and jumped out of the car. He opened the passenger door, just in time for Sam to tumble out and vomit. It was mostly watery bile with a few colorful chunks. Dean placed a hand on Sam's back as he continued to dry-heave. _He drank too much water at once... Damn, this is gonna be harder than I thought._

Sam continued to dry heave as the taste of bile-y flour and spoiled polyester overwhelmed his senses and made his stomach rebel. He felt a hand on his back and cringed. As soon as he was done, he bent forward further to consume what he just expelled.

"Sam, stop!" Sam froze as a pair of hands grasped his shoulders and gently pulled him up. _Dean...?_ "Just leave it, Sam. It's perfectly fine in the grass." Sam looked up and saw that familiar worried look on Dean's face.

Dean sighed. "We need a better way of doing this..." Dean turned around to see his father leaning against the truck door, waiting for them. Knowing his father wasn't a patient man, Dean quickly picked Sam up and put him back in the car, feeling a shot of guilt when he almost bent Sam's leg down with the other one. He shut the passenger door and signaled his father that they were ready to go.

With the remaining hour in the trip, Dean gave Sam very specific orders on how to eat and drink. Dean figured that telling Sam to eat until he wasn't hungry would result in either Sam not eating at all, eating until there was nothing left, or eating until he threw up again. So Dean told Sam to take small sips of water every fifteen minutes and to have a couple of the dried fruits with it at the same time. So by the time they arrived, Sam had consumed almost half a bottle of water, and a good handful or so of dried fruits, with no gag reflexes. Dean was feeling very proud of himself.

---

Caleb sat in the motel room, drinking a flat beer waiting for the Winchesters. He always preferred a flat beer... he always thought that it was easier to actual taste the beer when it was flat...

Anyway, John had told him that they would be accompanied by a new member to the team. A Sam Zel.

John had explained that they found the kid on the street, and discovered he was abused, both physically and sexually by his own family. He had no social skills, and Dean was playing the super mother hen. Caleb got the feeling that John didn't like this kid...

Caleb did some research of his own on the kid and nearly lost his stomach reading the results. Though he could only find records of Sam Zel to the age of five, they were brutal and Caleb shuddered to think about what else the poor kid had gone through.

And Dean's mothering... not a surprise. Dean's always been one for lost puppies. Though from the sounds of it, he's taking much more care with this one than would seem normal. It seemed to Caleb, that faced between the life of hunting and seeking out his mother's killer, and taking care of a stranger, an abused child with many mental and physical pains and headaches to deal with, that he would just choose hunting. Take care of the kid until he could dump him in a safe place and move on with life. That's the Dean Winchester style. (Works for his dating technique too) But no. Dean takes a stranger... a complete stranger and takes him under his wing. Seemingly permanently.

Caleb shook his head. This was going to be interesting.

---

The Winchesters pulled into the motel Caleb was staying at and drove up to room number 11. Caleb had already booked the room for them. He was staying in room number 12.

John parked the truck and looked over at his son in the Impala. Dean had pulled into the place next to him. Dean turned to Sam for a moment then turned to John. John nodded his head at Caleb's room and Dean nodded in affirmation. John then got out of his truck and walked up to Caleb's door. Not bothering to knock, he walked in and was not surprised to find Caleb nursing a beer.

"'Sup, John!"

"Hey, Caleb... can I have the key to our room?"

"What's the hurry, John? Can't we talk for a bit?"

"Yeah, well, _we_ can talk, sure. But I'm sure _Sam _needs his beauty sleep."

Caleb frowned at the older hunter's harsh tone. "John I'd like to talk to both you and your son, and if you were describing Dean's keenness to the boy accurately, I doubt he'll want to let the child out of his sight."

John grunted in affirmation. "Yeah, whatever..." John turned and ran outside to tell Dean to bring Sam into Caleb's room for now.

When John ran back into Caleb's room Dean turned to Sam. In the short time that John came out of the motel room, talked to Dean, and ran back in, Sam had curled in on himself, his face facing away from where John stood. Dean took a deep breath. Sam was obviously not as comfortable with other people, like his father, than he was with Dean. "Sam?"

Sam looked up, his eyes searching around. When he saw that no one was there, he slowly uncurled himself and looked at Dean.

"I'm going to carry you into the motel room, there." Dean pointed to room number 12. "Now, my dad and a friend of ours are going to be in there." Sam stiffened at the mention of another person. "Now, I've known him since I was a little kid and I trust him. Trust me, I wouldn't let him in the same room as you if I thought he'd hurt you." Sam gave a shaky, hesitant nod. "Now, we're all going to be talking about things that probably won't make any sense to you. You don't have to pay attention, but if you do, some of the things we say may sound a bit crazy. But I promise, I'll explain _everything _later tonight. Understand?" Sam gave another shaky nod. But he looked uncertain and fearful.

Dean nodded, not sure if he was trying to reassure himself or Sam. Dean got out of the car and ran to Sam's side. He opened the passenger door and slipped his arms under Sam. "You ready?" Sam's breathing was slightly labored and his eyes were going a bit glassy, but he managed another nod. Dean picked Sam up with general ease, already getting used to carrying the lanky teen. The only indication of pain Sam gave was a slight grimace. Dean hoped that mean that he was getting a little better already. When Dean made his way to the motel door, he was surprised when Sam curled the leather jacket tighter to his chest, squeezed his eyes shut and rested his head in the sweet spot under Dean's chin. Dean stood still for a moment. He felt a little like a father, carrying a terrified child who just had a bad nightmare back to bed. Then Dean realized, that's pretty much what he's doing, except that nightmare was Sam's life.

When Dean picked him up, Sam dared to try it. Dean had been nice so far... and if Dean _did_ decide to punish him for going over the line, that'd be okay, Sam decided. Because no one had ever let Sam do the things he's done in the last few days and what he was about to do might just be a bit _too_ selfish on Sam's part. So Sam closed his eyes and curled himself into Dean's chest, tucking his head under Dean's chin. He tensed himself for the inevitable blows, but when they didn't come, Sam sagged in relief and surprise. Then Sam actually felt Dean's chest. Curling into it sent warmth and a slight feeling of ecstasy through his side and head. Sam had _never _felt like this before. Not when Greg or anyone else held him. No one had ever made him feel this _good._ Sam snuggled his face just a little bit more into Dean's chest to absorb as much of that... _feeling_ as possible_._

Nothing prepared Caleb for the moment Dean came in with the young teen in his arms. Caleb sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of all the bruises, scars and abuse Sam had suffered from the people of Simmonsville and his family. The kid looked... well nothing short of _awful._ Then Caleb noticed only one leg was dangling over Dean's arm and for a scary moment Caleb thought the kid had lost the other one. Then he saw it bent up next to the thigh against Dean's chest. Caleb felt a little better until he noticed that the foot was sticking _up_. Man, John had said the kid had a twisted leg but _damn!_

Dean quickly carried Sam to the couch and gently placed him on. Sam blinked at the sudden loss of contact and immediately missed it. But he was pretty sure that was a once in a lifetime experience. Dean would probably never tolerate something like that again. Sam silently berated himself for being so selfish.

"So, you going to introduce me to the kid?"

Sam froze. _The other person! D-Dean said he w-was a friend... d-does that mean he's like D-Dean... nah! The man's his father and _he_ isn't anything like Dean. His friend is probably even less like him._.. and that thought terrified Sam.

"Oh right..." Dean said. Dean noticed how Sam's breathing quickened and how his knuckles turned white as they gripped his jacket tighter. "Um... Caleb, this is Sam. Sam... Caleb."

Sam started trembling as he turned his head to look at the new individual. His eyes quickly glanced over Caleb before darting back to his lap.

Caleb was smart enough to keep his distance. He could see how terrified the child was and understood a little bit better why Dean felt so compelled to help him. Still didn't explain everything, but... it certainly made a _little_ bit more sense.

"Alright," Dean said as he stood. "I'm going to be right over there, talking. You try and get some rest, okay?"

Sam gave a small nod as Dean turned to join his father and old friend at the table. For a moment Sam reached out a hand to grab the hem of the back of Dean's shirt to make him stay but immediately thought better of it and brought his hand back. _Don't be so needy, you selfish little freak! After everything he's done for you... you still haven't paid him back and you want even **more!? **Get a grip, you twisted little brat!_

The small reach for Dean's shirt did not go unnoticed by Caleb, and Caleb felt a bit bad for the child, but didn't say anything. He knew that if he did, Dean wouldn't want to leave Sam's side and then they'd get nothing done. No. That they find Mary Winchester's killer is more important than taking care of an abuse case.

Dean sat down as Caleb got out the pile of papers. "Alright," Caleb said. "Here's what I got so far..."

* * *

**I don't know how obvious it is, but I am LOVING this story! It's probably my favorite to write so far!**

** REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**If only I wrote chapters this long for ALL my stories...  
**

**Enjoy chapter eleven!  
**

* * *

"It isn't much," Caleb said. "But it's enough to suggest something supernatural."

"And it might be Mary's killer," John said with contained excitement.

"There's a possibility, which is why I called you to help with this hunt." Caleb split the stack of papers up and gave each of the Winchesters a copy. "This is what I got so far. Like I said, it's not much. The autopsy reports, the location of the deaths... So far I haven't found any pattern. The placement of the deaths is random except for the fact that they're all in this town. Now I also checked for omens... Nada. I did my research and couldn't really find anything. So I think we need to do a bit more investigating. I haven't gone to the individual houses yet, but the families might have some vital piece of information."

John was quickly flipping through the autopsy reports with a frown. "None of these people's necks were broken."

"I know."

"Mary's neck was broken."

"John, you said yourself it might be possible she broke it falling down. She _was_ laying next to the living room table with a cut on her head."

John took another look at the autopsy reports and shook his head. "I don't think this is Mary's killer."

"What?" Dean said, flipping through the reports himself, hoping to see what his dad sees. "How do you know?"

John shook his head again. "Just a feeling." He gave the reports one last glance before putting them back in a small pile. "In fact, I'm sure of it," he said, his disappointment palpable.

Dean slumped in his chair a little, looking a bit dejected. "Well," he said hopefully, "There's still a _chance_, isn't there?"

John didn't respond. He turned to Caleb and said, "I appreciate you bringing us out here with the possibility of finding the thing that killed Mary, but I guess we'll just have to look elsewhere. We'll help you finish the hunt, then we'll be on our way."

"Well, John, there's still a _possibility_..."

John gave a sad smile and shook his head. "I don't think so."

Sam listened to the strange conversation. He didn't understand most of it. All he really got was that people were dying. And Dean and his father wanted to find someone... or some_thing._

But his focus started to fade as his fear continued to increase. The other man, Caleb, kept throwing small glances Sam's way that made him feel very uncomfortable. Sam tucked his head under his arms and tried to quell the increasingly larger trembles shaking his body. He started to hyperventilate as fear completely took him. More than anything, he just wanted their conversation to be over so Dean could just come over and be with him.

Sam shook his head. No. God, why is he being so selfish lately!? Dean doesn't have to stop his conversation to come over to just _be_ with him. The conversation was obviously important to Dean so who should Sam be to ruin it?

Sam wasn't able to calm himself down at all, no matter what he tried to tell himself. He continued to hyperventilate until his vision blackened and he passed out.

If only his body had done it for bliss...

---

_Sam suddenly woke up with the new man, Caleb, standing over him with a sickly sweet smile. "Strip," he simply said._

_Without question or hesitation, Sam pulled off his shirt, and slipped his pants and boxers off. He lay back on the bed and spread his legs, waiting for the inevitable._

_Caleb's smile widened as he bent down and started to play with Sam's genitals. Sam bit back sobs as all the _wrong_ feelings came back. _What's wrong with me?_ he thought. _I'm supposed to do this without question. I did it so well for years and my family loved me...! Why does it feel so _wrong_ now!_ A small sob broke loose, causing Caleb to scowl in anger._

_"What's wrong?" he asked. "I'm doing you a favor. Would you rather me _punish _you for what you did?" He squeezed Sam's testicles for emphasis._

_Sam let out a small yelp, but otherwise, didn't respond. He honestly didn't know anymore if this would be better than being tortured._

_"What's going on?"_

_Sam turned his head to the new voice. Dean was standing feet away from the bed, looking at Sam with a look of disgust. "What's wrong, _Sammy? _Can't take what you don't deserve, huh, bitch?"_

_Sam didn't know why, but something in him broke. Dean was _different_ than the others. Dean made Sam feel _good._ Dean made Sam feel... _human_. But now..._  
_  
He didn't notice when Caleb stopped molesting him. His eyes were glued on the one person that had made Sam feel better. And then he understood. He had gotten too greedy. Those good feelings... they weren't meant for him. They were meant for _good_ families. Good people. Not twisted freaks. Dean must have gotten tired of Sam's selfishness._

_Dean walked up to the bed and roughly pinned Sam's shoulders down. He pressed a knee hard against Sam's crotch and rubbed it against Sam's genitals, painfully arousing him. Sam gasped and sobbed as Dean incited all the _wrong_ feelings._

_SLAP! "Don't cry, bitch," Dean said as he pressed his knee harder against Sam's genitals, the pressure pressing hard against Sam's psyche. "You deserve, much, much, much more than this for what you did." Dean removed his now wet knee and unzipped his pants. He grabbed Sam by his hair and pulled him into sitting position, ignoring the gasp of pain when Dean prevented Sam's leg from moving to a more comfortable position. He forced Sam to bend forward, electing sobs from the boy when his legs were forced to remain straight as his face was lead to Dean's burning erection. Sam felt like his legs were going to snap as Dean forced Sam to bend almost completely in half so he was facing Dean's member._

_"Suck it, Sammy. I'm sure you'll like it."_

_One last sob escaped before Sam wrapped his mouth around the hot, meaty muscle and proceeded to suck Dean off._

_---_

"Alright," John said. "Me and Caleb will go out tomorrow to do research. You'll stay here and _babysit._"

Dean ignored his father's tone and clear dislike of Sam. Dean wished he could go out and help with the hunt, but taking care of Sam was clearly more of a priority. Speaking of Sam... Dean turned around in his seat.

Sam was asleep, clearly in the throes of another nightmare. He wasn't sucking his fingers like normal. A layer of sweat made Sam's skin shine as he tossed back and forth.

"Sam?" Caleb and John's attention turned as Dean got up and kneeled next to Sam. He extended an arm and gingerly wiped the bangs that were plastered to his face with sweat away from his eyes. "Sam, wake up."

Sam's eyes snapped open. He gasped and panted for breath as though he'd just been running the marathon. His eyes focused on Dean and his face turned to fear as he quickly sat up and got on the floor with Dean.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Sam ignored him as he dropped the leather jacket and reached out and started to undo Dean's jeans. It took Dean a moment to realize what Sam was doing and Dean quickly grabbed Sam's hands and hastily pull them away. "No, no, no, Sam! It's okay! You don't have to do that! Remember?"

Sam's breathing was erratic, his demeanor screaming panic and fear. Sam's eyes darted everywhere. When they landed on Caleb, his fear seemed to impossible increase as he desperately tried to tug his arms out of Dean's grip so he could strip himself.

"Sam, Sam, Sam, it's okay!" But Sam wasn't responding to Dean at all, his fear of being a bad boy overwhelming his senses, making him hysteric. Not knowing what else to do, Dean flung his arms around Sam and held him close to his chest.

As if a switch had been flicked, Sam immediately stilled. Feelings of warmth, safety, and comfort filled his senses like never before. It only took a moment for the smell to register and for him to realize Dean was hugging him, much like Greg often did. Sam used to think having Greg hug him was such a treat. But his hugs were _nothing_ like Dean's. In his entire life, he had never felt this _good_.

For the moment, Sam ignored the voice in his head telling him he was being selfish and he didn't deserve this. He just curled into the warmth Dean provided, letting it fill him up, making him feel as though his body wasn't twisted and dirty. Making him feel like just a _boy_.

The moment was broken when Dean slowly pulled away. Sam counted his blessings, sure that he was close to his lifetime limit. Sam was also immensely grateful to be allowed to even _feel_ something that good.

Then he realized, that Dean still didn't want him to... do those things for him. _Was it a dream...?_ Sam turned his attention back to Caleb for a moment but quickly looked away when he saw that his face expression was stony and unreadable. _He'll probably figure out soon what you are. You should just be readily available, just in case he takes you unexpectedly. You don't want to be unprepared and make him angry._

"Feeling better?" Dean asked worriedly. Sam gave a shaky nod, not really sure how he felt, but wanting to give some sort of answer to appease Dean.

Dean looked over Sam more closely. His eyes were glassy and didn't really focus on anything. His movements were jerky, flinching at every sound and movement. Dean could feel Sam shaking violently under his grip. Sam's hand had crept back up into his mouth. He quietly sucked his fingers in childish comfort, not really realizing everyone was watching him. _Must have been some nightmare..._

"I think it's time we hit the sack," John said.

Sam jumped a little, being reminded that others were in the room. He quickly removed his hand from his mouth and used his other hand to press it hard against the floor, as though to squeeze the bad behavior out of it and to punish himself. Fearing Sam might hurt himself, Dean quickly took Sam's hands and held them firmly in his own. Sam looked up at Dean with glassy, confused eyes. Dean just smiled.

The older two men took no notice to the two teenagers' behavior. Caleb nodded to John's question and grabbed a key, handing it to John. "This goes to your room. I'll see you guys in the morning." John nodded and left the motel room so to unpack and get ready for bed.

Caleb turned to Dean, who was gently lifting Sam off the floor. "You need help?"

Dean felt Sam tense in his arms and immediately said, "Nah, I'm good. Been doing this all day." That's when Dean realized, _I only met this kid last night!_ Dean shook his head, amazed that someone could have this much effect on him in such a short time.

Caleb walked over, sensing more than seeing Sam curling into Dean's chest, burying his face so he didn't have to see the potential abuser. He picked up the leather jacket and tucked it around Sam. Caleb saw how Sam clutched at it earlier, like a child with his security blanket, and figured it must be a source of comfort to him.

Sam felt something being wrapped around him with foreign hands and tensed up further. He felt Dean squeeze Sam closer to his chest, and Sam wanted to cry at Dean's loving behavior. _This isn't right..._ Sam thought. _I don't deserve this..._

_But it feels soooo good, _another part of his brain argued.

_But that's the point! I don't deserve to feel this good!_

_And as soon as Dean starts punishing you for being bad in his eyes..._

_This isn't about how _he _sees me. It's about what I _know_ I am. Dean doesn't know... He doesn't know what I did..._

The other part of his brain had no argument for this.

---

By the time Dean walked through the threshold of the motel room, John had already finished packing.

"Sam can sleep on the couch," he said as he crawled into the bed. "I already laid the salt lines and set up the sigils."

Dean just stood there for a moment. He glanced down at his charge, who had his head buried in Dean's shoulder, still terrified of Caleb and his potential of being another torturer. Dean shook his head as he walked to 'his' bed and set Sam down in it.

Sam looked up at him confused. He was sure Dean's father just said that he should sleep on the couch... That's when Sam noticed the leather jacket laying over him. He quickly grabbed it and held it close to his chest.

Dean grabbed the covers of the bed and laid them over Sam. "I'm going to sleep on the couch, okay? Right over there." Dean pointed to the couch near the kitchen. "If you're scared, or you feel that something's wrong, don't hesitate to come over and wake me up, okay?"

Sam automatically nodded his head, though he was fairly certain that he would not be able to do this. Waking someone up usually ended up with Sam being tied outside, naked with a dog collar, chain, and padlock.

Dean smiled. "Sweet dreams, Sammy." Sam flinched at the nickname. _I should ask him about that later..._ Dean turned out the lights, grabbed a couple of blankets, and settled himself on the couch. The emotional stress catching up to him, he quickly fell to sleep.

A few hours later, in the small hours of the morning, Dean woke up to the small sounds of sniffs and soft cries. _Shit..._ Dean quickly got up and quietly walked to Sam's bedside. A bitter smell permeated from the bed and Dean realized what happened. "Sam?"

The cries stopped and Sam's breathing hitched. "'M sorry... D-didn't mean ta wake you..."

"It's okay. Looks like you had an accident..." Dean could see Sam curl in further on himself.

"'M sorry..." Sam started to sit up. "I'll c-clean it up..."

"Sam, here, let me help." Dean ignored the look of utter confusion as he helped Sam out of the bed.

Sam sat on the floor as Dean took off the sheets and blankets and stuffed them into a plastic bag. _This isn't right, _Sam thought. _I should be cleaning my mess up. _But not willing to question Dean, Sam, unnoticed, went to the couch where Dean was sleeping. He quickly removed his spoiled clothes and crawled under the covers, sure that Dean would want something in return for his extreme kindness.

Dean was tying the plastic bag up when his father woke up.

"Whaddya doin'," he asked groggily.

"Sam had an accident. I'm cleaning it up."

John gave a sleepy scoff. "Gimpy, useless, _and_ not toilet trained. Jeez could 'e _be _more of a burden..." With this, John fell back asleep.

Dean sighed. He needed to find away to change his father's viewpoint of Sam.

_I guess next is cleaning up Sam,_ Dean thought. _But that means Sam's going to have to be naked... Okay, this is going to be difficult._ Dean turned around to where he left Sam, but he wasn't there. Momentarily panicking, Dean quickly walked around the motel room and quickly found him. He was laying on the couch under the covers. His clothes were folded and set next to the wall.

Dean kneeled next to the couch and placed a hand on Sam's cheek. Sam opened his eyes and gave a small smile. "'M ready..."

Dean sighed. "Did you forget our rules, Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "N-no..."

"Then why aren't you following them?" Dean asked kindly.

Sam immediately panicked. "Am I in trouble?! I'm sorry! I-I was just trying to please you! No, wait! I-I mean...!" Not know what else to do, Sam went into automatic mode. He flung the covers off of him, grabbed his genitals, and started to molest himself in hopes of not making Dean more mad.

"No, no, no, Sam, stop!"

Sam stopped in mid-movement. Tears started to well in his eyes. "What am I doing wrong?" he squeaked out.

Dean carefully grabbed Sam's wrists and pulled his hands away from his groin. _This is going to be a lot harder than I originally thought..._ "Sam, you never, never,_ never_ have to touch yourself or anyone else like that." Dean was sure that he was starting to sound like a broken record, but apparently Sam wasn't recieving the message.

Tears started to fall as Sam shook his head. "B-but I... I'm not..." Sam cried in frustration at his inability to express himself.

Dean put his fingers to Sam's lips. "It's okay, Sam you don't have to say anything. Just _listen_ to what _I'm_ saying, 'kay?" Sam slowly nodded. "Okay. Now, let's get you cleaned up." Dean wrapped one of his blankets around Sam's body before picking him up and carrying him to the bathroom. He sat Sam on the toilet, then closed the door and turned on the lights. He filled the bathtub, checking the water and making sure it was about lukewarm.

"Okay, Sam, do you know how to take a bath?"

Sam shook his head shakily.

"How did you clean yourself?"

"My mom and dad would hang me in the cellar and spray me with cold water," Sam said in a quiet, monotonous voice. "Then they'd rub me with this rough stuff and play with me before spraying me again. Though if I was a bad boy they'd punish me instead of playing with me..."

Dean found himself lost for words. _Jeez, didn't this family give Sam_ any_ semblance of normalcy?! _"Alright..." Dean whispered. "Well, I'm going to help you clean yourself, okay?" Sam nodded and Dean found himself nodding with him. "Okay." Dean carefully unwrapped the blanket covering Sam. "I'm gonna take off your bandages, 'cause the water'll ruin them anyway." Sam gave an automatic nod, and Dean carefully peeled off the bandages cover Sam's arms, torso, back, his right foot, and inner thighs. Dean noticed how Sam wrung his hands together nervously, and Dean was sure that Sam was trying to stop himself from trying to 'please' Dean.

"Okay, got all your bandages off. Now I'm gonna put you into the tub." Dean placed his arms under Sam's back and knees and carefully placed him into the water.

"It's warm!" Sam said with a slight smile.

Dean smiled. "Bathes are supposed to feel good, Sam." Dean grabbed a washcloth and rubbed some soap into it. "Now I'm going to wash you. It's gonna sting a little because of the soap... Now, I want you to pay attention, okay, Sam? 'Cause eventually you're gonna do this by yourself, okay?"

Sam nodded. He was pretty confident he'd learn how to do this pretty quickly. His parents and brother would often show him how to do stuff only once and fully expected him to be able to do it on his own later on. Like how to give a blow job properly, or how to offer himself the right position.

Dean gently wiped the washcloth around Sam's legs and, regretfully, his groin. Though Sam didn't seem to get the wrong message out of it... Dean sincerely hoped not.

Dean decided to clean the rest of Sam's body since it doesn't look like Sam's had a decent cleaning in a week or two. The water soon turned a light brown color from all the grime and dirt. As Dean washed his hair, he was surprised to see how long it actually was. When wet, it actually touched his shoulders.

Dean was further saddened when he saw the back of Sam's neck. Although there was only a 'fre' carved on his cheek, 'Freak' and 'Village Whore' were neatly and deeply carved on the nape of his neck. From the looks of the cuts, they would be there until the day Sam died.

After Dean was done and the water was drained, Dean grabbed a towel and proceeded to try Sam off. Sam had a slight smile on his face, making Dean smile in return. "Did you like that, Sam?"

"Yes."

Dean's smile faltered. That 'yes' sounded thoughtless and automatic. His parents probably conditioned Sam to always say 'yes' to question like that. Dean sighed. _Sam has absolutely no communicative skills. If I want him to get better, I'm going to have to work on those first so I know exactly _what_ I need to fix._

As Dean dried Sam off, he got a closer look at all the torture inflicted on him the previous day. It could have been his imagination, but Dean could have sworn that they all looked so much better. The cuts seemed smaller, the burns didn't look so bad, and the bruises looked at least a shade lighter than before.

Dean shook his head. _Sam's body has probably gotten so many injuries that it heals fast now to adapt to how he was living._ "I don't think we need to re-wrap everything. Probably just your foot and your arms..." he said more to himself than to Sam. He sat Sam back on the toilet and grabbed the right supplies.

When Dean was done with the bandaging, Sam was starting to nod off. Dean carefully redressed Sam in some of his new clothes before carrying him to the couch. Dean grabbed the leather jacket off the floor (thankfully, that's where it was when Sam had his accident, so it didn't get dirty at all) and tucked it in with Sam. At that point, Sam was fast asleep.

* * *

**I don't know how obvious it is, but I am LOVING this story! It's probably my favorite to write so far!**

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	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**I think I may go into hiatus for Replacement and Regaining Humanity for a little while and just work on this story. I have a TON of ideas for this story and really want to get into them! I promise - for those of you who are also keeping track of my other stories - that I will finish them eventually. For now though, I'll only be working on this one.**

**Thank you, Kelly for the support and help!**

**I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter, so please drop me a review and tell me EVERYTHING. All the good and all the bad! (Seriously! If you start cussing at me because you think it's so bad, I won't get angry! Just try to include some constructive criticism XD)  
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**Enjoy chapter twelve!  
**

* * *

When Dean woke up the next morning, he found himself sleeping at the kitchen table. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he noticed a note scribbled out in front of him.

_Got you and the gimp breakfast and coffee. Caleb and I are gone. I'll call with an update in three hours. Dad_

Dean checked out the clock. Eight forty-three in the morning. Unfortunately Dean had no idea when the note was written so really time was irrelevant.

_Gimp_. Dean crumpled up the note in frustration. He was definitely going to have a serious talk with his father about his attitude towards Sam.

Dean spotted the bag of food and hot coffee on the other side of the table and smiled. Dean turned around to check up on Sam and found him awake, sitting up and staring at him.

"Hey, kiddo. How long you been awake?"

Sam tensed at the question. "Uh... I think, an hour?"

Dean decided to ignore Sam's reaction to the question. Sam obviously can't tell what different tones of voice mean. So Dean's hoping that if he takes his own tone of voice's attitude, Sam will start to understand that not everything is meant to be a test and taken seriously. "Was my dad gone by the time you got up?"

Sam gave Dean a slightly confused look before quickly shaking it off and answering. "N-no. Your dad left about... twenty minutes ago?"

Seeing that Sam was unsure if his answer was going to get him in trouble, Dean smiled and said, "Thanks, Sam." Sam still remained slightly tense. Then, he quickly got on all fours and crawled to where Dean sat.

"Sam...!"

Sam abruptly rose until he was kneeling and reached for Dean's jean's fasten.

"Sam..." Dean grabbed Sam's wrists and once again pulled Sam's hands away from his groin. Dean sighed, frustration starting to get to him.

Sam went limp under Dean's grasp and murmured, "'M sorry..."

Dean hated himself for starting to feel so annoyed at Sam's behavior. "Okay..." Dean whispered. "So just telling you not to do it obviously doesn't work..." Dean sighed again. He really had no idea how to get Sam to stop trying to 'please' everyone. Then again, it's only been two days. _Maybe I should try and have a bit more patience. This was his life for most likely, _eight_ years! I can't expect him to understand how rest of the world works in only a couple of measly days...!_  
_  
_Dean was brought back into reality when he noticed Sam softly crying, his head bowed down and his body shaking in fear. "Sam?"

"So sorry..." he whispered. "Promise I'll try harder... _I promise..._!"

Dean himself started to shake. His emotions were getting the best of him. Dean just didn't know what to do. How was he supposed to help Sam, if Dean doesn't know what happened to him? How was he supposed to help Sam break years of horrifying habits set by a twisted, sick family?

"C'mon," Dean said softly. He bent down and carefully lifted Sam into his arms. He walked over to the couch and sat down, resting Sam awkwardly in his lap. Sam gave Dean a downright confused look, which Dean ignored as he wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders and slowly rocked him.

Sam couldn't be more confused. Sam did something wrong.... he didn't follow the rules and he's being _comforted?_ This was wrong. Sam should be offering penance for his bad behavior, not being rewarded. But Sam just couldn't push Dean away like he was supposed to. Sam _wanted_ this so badly. He wanted to be comforted. He wanted to be free of touching people and of touching himself. He wanted to just forget he was a twisted _freak_ and just be _normal_ like everyone else. But he couldn't. As much as Sam wanted, he was terrified. He didn't want to be punished, he didn't want to be in pain. He wanted people to like, or even love, him. And the only way that was going to happen was if he pleased them. If he pleased them well enough, they wouldn't hurt him, they wouldn't punish him. And maybe, _maybe..._ they would love him.

---

Dean had gotten Sam to eat the egg off of a McDonald's McGriddle sandwich and half a hash brown when Dean decided to explain what he and his father did.

"Sam, did you by any chance listen to the conversation I had with my Dad and Caleb last night?"

Sam nodded.

"What did you think?"

Sam shrugged.

"I bet you didn't understand most of it."

Sam gave a hesitant nod, his eyes going teary.

"Hey, hey! It's okay. I didn't expect you to understand what we were talking about. That's what I wanna talk to you about. Sam, what do you know about the supernatural?

Sam frowned. "L-like ghosts and stuff?"

"Yeah... Sam, what would you think if I told you that almost everything you have ever heard of - ghosts, werewolves, and all that - were real?"

Sam shrugged again. "I wouldn't think anything."

Dean frowned. "Okay, what I'm trying to tell you is... me and my dad - and Caleb and others too - we hunt these things."

Then, on cue, Sam's eyes darkened, he frowned in confusion and probably a little fear. "You... hunt these things?"

"Yeah," Dean said slowly, beginning to think telling Sam was a bad idea. "We hunt... the supernatural!" Dean laughed nervously.

Sam's eyes watered as he shook his head in denial. The new information starting to overload Sam's system. "You... kill... supernatural things?"

"Well... _kill_ is kinda a harsh word. See, you gotta understand, Sam... these things hurt people. They kill innocent people and some do all sorts of other awful things. We _protect_ people."

Sam's breathing got very heavy as a few tears fell and he buried his head in his hands, trying to comprehend the new information about the Winchesters. When Dean placed a hand on Sam's back, Sam flinched away. Dean silently berated himself. _I _knew_ telling him was a mistake! Kid doesn't need any more trauma in his life!_

Dean jumped as his cell went off. He quickly answered it. "Dad?"

_"Hey, Dean. Like I thought, it's not your mother's killer."_

Dean sagged in disappointment. "You sure?"

_"Yeah. But we did figure out what it actually is."_

"What's that?"

_"You're not going to believe this... Bloody Mary."_

Dean gaped. "What? Dad, I thought you said there was no evidence that Bloody Mary ever existed."

_"Yeah, well, looks like I found it."_

"What else do you know?"

_"Quite a bit, actually. Look, Caleb and I are going to do some more research to solidify things, then we're gonna head back. We should be back early this afternoon. And hopefully, we can take care of this bitch tonight."_

Dean looked down at Sam, who had uncurled himself and was looking at Dean with red, wet eyes. "Okay... I'll see ya then." Dean hung up and sat back down next to Sam. "That was my dad. He figured out what we're hunting here. We're probably gonna go out tonight to get rid of it... I don't know exactly what you're gonna do... maybe you'd could wait in the car or something..."

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Can I ask a question?"

Dean nodded.

"W-why do you hunt supernatural?"

Dean sighed. "My mom was killed by something supernatural. And I swore to myself that I was going to find the thing that killed her, and teach it a lesson or two... But it's been forteen years now and we haven't caught any sign of the bastard."

"But when you do find it... you're gonna kill it?"

Dean's eyes darkened. "Not before I make it feel as much pain as I felt when I saw my mom's bloody body in the living room."

Sam shrunk back and trembled harder from the pure venom in Dean's words. This was probably the first time that Sam was actually afraid of the older teen. It felt like punch to the gut that someone like Dean could think something so... _dark_.

Then, like a switch had been thrown, Dean smiled. "But I doubt we'll ever find her killer." Dean frowned at the raw fear in Sam's features. "Sam? You okay?"

Sam nodded and leaned into Dean's side, hoping for some comfort. No matter how undeserving Sam was of it. And just like he hoped, Dean wrapped his arm around his shoulders, squeezing him into his side. Sam reveled in the warmth and absorbed the elating feeling coursing through him. The more time Sam spent away from his family, the more _different _Sam felt. He wasn't sure what it meant, but it absolutely terrified him.

---

When John and Caleb arrived back at the motel, Dean was doing some research of his own on the computer and Sam was sleeping on the couch.

"Don't bother, Dean," John said. "We got all the information we need."

"I'm not researching Bloody Mary..." Dean said distractedly.

John frowned. "Then what?"

"Torture victims."

John slowly nodded. "And?"

"And..." Dean slammed the laptop shut in frustration. "I still have no clue how to help Sam. I found plenty on the effects of torture and rape, but nothing really on how to help the victims."

"Nothing at all?"

"Well, because Sam's perception on the world is so screwed, most of the stratagies to help him deal wouldn't do squat anyway. The only thing helpful I found is that I need to find a focal point of his self-torture."

John nodded as he and Caleb sat next to Dean at the table.

"He's torturing himself?" Caleb asked.

"Makes sense," John said quietly. "I helped in a few operations where we saved POWs, many whom were tortured. Even after it was all over, they'd still think that they were trapped, or that their family's would never want to see them again and so on and so forth. If you find the focal point that's prevent their recovery, you fix the focal point and that'll usually puts them back on the road to normalcy."

"But we have no idea what Sam's focal point is!" Dean lamented. "All we know is that he was used as a sex toy! That's all Sam knows! I mean, does he even _have_ a point!?"

"Look, we can talk about this later," John said tiredly. "Right now people here, and we need to take care of it."

Dean slumped back in the chair, wishing his father cared a little bit more about Sam, but not in the mood to argue with him.

"So, we figured out it was Bloody Mary, and who she targets," Caleb said.

"And that is...?" Dean asked.

"Well you see, someone has to summon her by saying 'Bloody Mary' three times in a mirror. But we found out that she doesn't always go after the person who summoned her."

"Then who does she go after?"

"People with secrets," John said, "Secrets that involve someone getting killed."

"So..." Dean said. "She ganks people who have killed people. Doesn't sound all that bad to me..."

"It's not that simple, Dean," Caleb said. "One of the victims, a Timothy Garen, was in a car accident a few years back. A drunk driver ran a red light and t-boned the car Garen was in, injuring him and killing his wife instantly. We found out he had a beer or two before he and his wife left. Not enough to intoxicate him, but enough to make him think that if he hadn't had any, he might have had a better reaction time."

"And Mary ganked him for _that?_ But it was the drunk driver who ran the red and..."

"Mary doesn't care, Dean. Garen had a secret and someone died. That's all she cared about."

Dean scoffed. "Alright then, so how do we get rid of this bitch?"

"Bloody Mary was a young girl named Mary Worthington. She was sleeping with a married man and she eventually decided to tell his wife about their affair. Before she did, though, he cut out her eyeballs. As she lay dying, she tried to spell out the name of her killer with blood, on a nearby mirror."

"We figured out that this mirror was sold to an antique store near here a couple months ago," John said. "About the time that the deaths started."

"So we smash the mirror and 'goodbye, Mary?'" Dean asked.

The older hunters hesitated. "We don't think that'll be enough," Caleb said. "We think we need to summon Mary into that mirror and smash it while she's in it."

Dean scoffed. "And how exactly do you guys expect to summon her? Do either of you have some secret where someone died? A secret that _no one_ knows?!"

"Um..." The hunters jumped as the fourth voice interjected.

Sam was sitting up, sleep long forgotten for him. He was trembling, his eyes glassy as they swiveled from Dean to the other two men.

Dean frowned. "Sam?"

"I-I have a secret..." Sam said, his voice barely audible. "And... some... someone died."

* * *

***Gasp!* Bum, Bum, BUM!!!! (A slightly cliffy for you all :D)**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
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	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**Again, not one of my best chapters, so please drop me a review and tell me EVERYTHING. All the good and all the bad! (Seriously! If you start cussing at me because you think it's so bad, I won't get angry! Just try to include some constructive criticism XD)  
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**Enjoy chapter thirteen!  
**

* * *

"Mind running that past me again, boy?" John said.

"To summon… Mary?... you need someone with a secret... that someone died in," Sam said, slowly and hesitantly. His gaze constantly flickered to Dean for the small amount of comfort his presence provided. "I... I have one."

John smiled. "Alright then!" He didn't even question how Sam even understood the conversation. At this point, John was almost sure that Dean has filled the boy in with their family business.

"What?" Dean breathed. "Hell, no!"

"Dean, we need _someone _to summon her!"

"Well, it's not going to be Sam, _Dad_!"

"You watch your tongue with me, son!"

Dean obediently backed off, but continued to glare his disapproval at him.

"Your father's right, Dean."

Dean spun around to face Caleb. "What?"

"We _do _need someone to summon her. The longer we take finding someone else to do it, the longer Mary has to kill innocent people."

Dean's shoulders sagged a little, though his anger was still palpable. "What about Sam? We just gonna put him at risk..."

"We'll protect him, Dean. I promise, nothing will happen to him. We'll smash the mirror as soon as she makes an appearance."

Dean huffed in defeat but continued to grumble to himself, obviously not liking the plan.

Sam didn't even hear what went on after Dean's father's affirmation. All Sam could think was that this was his chance to please John and hopefully the new man, Caleb. Sam wasn't sure what he was supposed or what would happen. All he knew was that they needed someone with a secret that involved death. Sam immediately offered himself up, and was immediately rewarded when John smiled and agreed. Sam had finally pleased him! He's not quite sure _why_ but he did. Now he just had to do what was expected and hopefully not screw up...

---

Dean knew that his father couldn't be swayed. Especially not with Caleb backing him up.

That didn't mean Dean liked it any better.

He learned long ago that his father wasn't flawless. His father made mistakes, had his weaknesses (as few as they were), and made the wrong choices. It just amazed Dean how much of this he had seen out of his father the last couple of days. He couldn't understand how John could be so cold to Sam. Okay, maybe he could understand. He wanted to find his wife's killer and his son is insisting on carrying a stray around, which would hinder the hunt a great deal. Okay, Dean understood that.

It's just... _Dean _didn't understand why he even _wanted_ to take care of Sam to such lengths. To be honest, the easiest thing to do would be to dump Sam at a hospital. He would get treated and once he was healthy he'd go into the system...

Dean shivered. No way he was letting Sam go into the system. Not after the system totally screwed him.

But even _still_, it was more than that. Dean just felt this uncontrollable urge to not only care for Sam, but to _protect_ him. Dean never wanted anything bad to happen to him ever again. He almost felt as though he would take Sam's place, if it were between the two of them, to be harmed. Or _tortured._ Scratch that, he _would _take Sam's place.

Dean shook his head. This just isn't right. He seemed to feel more obligated to help and protect Sam, a total stranger with no relation whatsoever, over his _father_, his own flesh and blood that raised him on his own since he was three years old!

Anyway, back to the matter at hand, it was seven o'clock at night. Dean was trying to get Sam to eat something with more substance to it, all the while preventing him from trying to please Dean or the other hunters. He eventually got Sam to down a few green peppers and a small portion of the bread off of a sub and half a glass of water. The only reason Dean stopped was because Sam was starting to get a little hysteric and thought that _everything_ he did was 'bad.' And that seemed to include breathing. Dean didn't know if it was apprehension of what Sam was going to be doing tonight or something else. But it was starting to scare Dean a little. Every chance he got, he put his hands down his sweats and molested himself or tried to unfasten Dean's jeans. At one point, Sam had pulled down his pants and boxers and got on his hands and knee's, offering his ass up. Dean was seriously considering tying Sam to a chair. But knowing Sam, he'd probably take it the complete wrong way.

Ever since he suggested summoning Mary, Sam could feel the contrast of emotions coming from all three men, especially Dean and John. Anger, excitement, frustration, anticipation... As it got closer to nightfall, these emotions and feeling increased in intensity, making Sam more edgy. He started to become fearful that _he_ was the one causing the clash of emotions between Dean and his father and wanted to amend whatever he did. Every chance he got, he tried to please Dean. Only Dean for now, since he was the closest. Even though Dean rejected all his attempts, Sam still continued to try, thinking that when Dean _did _want Sam to punish himself or to please him, Sam would be ready to make Dean happy.

Sam also hoped that by doing this he might calm the overwhelming emotions filling his senses. Especially Dean's. Dean seemed angry, _very_ angry. Sam didn't know what he did wrong, but he was determined to show Dean that he didn't mean it, and he was willing to make up for it.

There wasn't that much to do before they go. Basically all they needed was to bring themselves, picks, and crowbars. The antique shop closes at eight, and they were planning on leaving around eleven. This left plenty of time for Dean to talk to Sam about what to do.

"We're looking for a specific mirror," Dean explained. "Once we find it, you're gonna look into it and say 'Bloody Mary' three times. I'll be standing right next to you with a crowbar in hand. Now, we're hoping that Mary will appear in the mirror. As soon as she does, I'm going to smash it. Understand?" Sam nodded. "Tell me what you'll be doing."

"Say 'Bloody Mary' into the right mirror three times. Wait for her to appear then you'll smash the mirror."

Dean sighed, still not liking this idea. "Good."

Sam panicked at the way Dean reacted to what he said. "D-did I say something wrong?!" Sam quickly slipped his hands into his sweats.

"No, Sam..." Dean once again, grabbed Sam's arms and pulled his hands away. Dean held Sam's hands to his chest and looked the younger man in the eye. "It's not you. I'm not angry or upset with _you_. I just don't like the fact that we're doing this..."

"'M sorry..." Sam mumbled. "I'll try to be a good boy..."

Dean sighed as he reached up and petted Sam's hair. "You already are a good boy, Sam."

Sam just shook his head, tears falling down his face.

---

The drive there was made in silence. Sam was running Dean's instructions over and over again in his head, making sure that he knew _exactly_ what to do. Meanwhile, Dean was trying really hard to _not _think about everything that could go wrong.

John and Caleb left fifteen minutes before they did. They were making sure no one was there and disarming any alarm systems. They wanted this to go as smooth as possible.

By the time Dean and Sam arrived, Caleb was picking the lock on the front door. He made quick work of it, letting out a triumphant grunt when the lock clicked and the door swung open. Dean quickly got out and ran to Sam's side. He picked up the much-too-light teen and carried him inside. All of them froze when they closed the door behind them. Dozens of mirrors covered the walls, many of them resting on the floor, out of harm's way.

"Damn," Dean murmured.

John pulled out a picture of the mirror they were looking for and handed it to Caleb as a reminder. "You two stay here," he said. "We'll call for you when we find it."

Dean nodded and John and Caleb walked off in opposite directions in search for the mirror. Dean placed Sam on the floor and sat next to him. "Remember what to do, Sam?"

"Say 'Bloody Mary' three times into the right mirror. When she appears, you smash it."

Dean smiled. "Good job." They sat in companionable silence.

"Over here, guys!" Caleb called.

The uncomfortable pit in Dean's stomach that planted itself there when Sam suggested doing this turned into dread as he picked Sam up and carried him to where Caleb called from. John followed closely behind him.

They found Caleb in another room staring at a large mirror, about five by three feet big. The frame was gold colored and very flowery and fancy. Definitely a mirror worth smashing in Dean's book. John took the picture back from Caleb and took another look at it. "Yup. That's it."

"You were doubting me?" Caleb said jokingly.

"You wouldn't know the difference between a werewolf and a chupacabra unless it bit you in the ass around the full moon," John responded. He turned to Dean and Sam. "Ready?"

Dean looked down at his charge, who had buried his face in Dean's shoulder again, still fearful of Dean's father and his friend. "Yeah..." Dean said. "Just stay back." On cue, John and Caleb took a few steps back away from the mirror. Dean kneeled down and set Sam down in front of it. When he pulled away from Sam, Dean noticed the pallor and glassy look Sam had. "You still okay to do this?" Dean asked, hoping the answer was 'no.'

Sam blinked a couple of times, forcing himself to focus on Dean and the mirror in front of him. He gave a shaky nod. "'M ready," he said quietly.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed, knowing there was no turning back now. He stood and extended a hand to his father, who handed him a crowbar. He positioned himself next to Sam, ready to swing as soon as the bitch appeared. Dean saw Sam staring at him through the mirror, looking for a confirmation. Dean nodded. "Okay, Sam."

Sam's gaze shifted from Dean's reflection to his own. "Bloody Mary. B-Bloody Mary." Sam's gaze flickered back to Dean's reflection, searching for the familiar reassurance of his presence. Dean smiled and nodded, and Sam found the strength to say once more, "Bloody Mary."

There was silence. For nearly a minute, there was no movement and no noise except for the occasional passing car outside. John sighed as the nothingness reigned.

"So much for _that,_" Caleb said.

Dean lowered the crowbar, his relief palpable. He let out a nervous laugh as he turned to his father. "Now what?"

A choked gasp stopped any response John may have had. The hunters turned back to Sam, who was trembling. They looked into the mirror and saw in Sam's reflection a thin trail of blood leaking out of the corner of his right eye.

"Sam!" Dean knelt by Sam's side, placing his hands on the young teen's shoulders, trying to support him.

That's when he noticed that something was wrong. Dean shifted his gaze from Sam to the mirror.

Dean took a sharp inhale at the twisted features of Sam's reflection. He had a dark smirk, glaring straight at his counterpart.

"_You did it,_" it said to Sam, using his voice.

Dean quickly stood and grabbed the crowbar. Wasting no time, he swung at the mirror full strength. The crowbar bounced off the mirror, leaving no damage in it's wake. "What the...?!" Dean gasped.

"Crap!" Caleb said. "I think I know what's wrong!" Caleb turned and ran out of the store, leaving Sam and the two stunned Winchesters.

Mary, in the form of Sam, twisted his smile even more as she glared at Sam accusingly. "_You killed all__ those people._"

Sam shook his head, horrified this was happening. He couldn't cry, sob, or even speak. All he could do was watch himself speak, and feel the life blood drain out of him down his face. And Dean and John could do nothing but watch as Mary started to spill Sam's dark secret.

"_They were trying to help you. They _cared _about you! And what did you do in return? You KILL them!_"

"What the hell is she talking about?" John asks quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

Dean had his arms wrapped around Sam, trying to get him through this and praying that Caleb had a way to stop this before Sam became another victim of Bloody Mary. Sam's attention was totally fixed on his reflection. He silently begged it not to say any more, though Sam was pretty sure that it didn't care what Sam wanted.

"_Oh..._" Mary said mockingly. "_That's right, you were _scared_ and unintentionally lashed out! You were just trying to _protect_ yourself!_" Mary shook her - or rather, Sam's - head. "_You can make all the excuses you want. It still doesn't make all those people less dead. Or you any less of a freak - !_"

BAM!

The mirror shattered with Mary in it. Sam was immediately reduced to sobs and Dean tightened his arms around him. "Shh... It's okay, Sam. It's over. It's over..."

John turned and saw Caleb pointed a shotgun at the mirror. "Rock salt," he explained. "I figured since the crowbar didn't work, shotgun shells filled with rock salt had better."

John smiled and nodded. "Good work, Reeves."

Caleb smiled at the praise, but it quickly faded when he saw Dean and Sam huddled on the floor. Sam was sobbing heavily while Dean minutely rocking him, murmuring reassurances to him. Caleb hadn't meant for this to happen. Mary was supposed to be destroyed before anything actually happened. Poor kid must be more traumatized now then ever. "John?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's pack up. We'll take care of them afterwards."

John nodded. As Caleb started carry things back to the cars, John just stood there, thinking about what he's learned.

_You have no idea who that kid is. If you wanna take him, fine! But it won't take you long to realize that taking that freak in was the biggest mistake you ever made!_

_You can make all the excuses you want. It still doesn't make all those people less dead. Or you any less of a freak - !_

John watched as his son comforted the boy in question and shook his head. He was starting to doubt the boy was even _human...._

As Dean continued to rock and whisper little comforts, he noticed that Sam was whispering something. "Sam?"

"I'm sorry, I know I'm bad, know I'm a freak, twisted dirty, murderer, what I did, _what I did...!_"

"Oh, Sam..." Dean squeezed Sam even tighter, hoping that Sam didn't take what Mary said to heart and knowing he would.

* * *

**Was it too confusing....?  
**

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	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**This chapter's more flashback than anything else, but I hope it's interesting enough to keep your attention XD**

**FOUR MORE DAYS UNTIL THE NEXT SUPERNATURAL!!!! CAN'T WAIT!  
**

**Enjoy chapter fourteen!  
**

* * *

_Five-year-old __Sam was curled into the corner of the closet that was his bedroom, sucking his fingers. He couldn't even look at his twisted leg that throbbed at the slightest movement. He silently cried, fearing any noise would result in more pain by his new 'family.' He didn't like these people. The way they looked at him was full of anger and something else Sam couldn't recognize. Like the looks Ned used to give him. Whatever it was or meant, he didn't like it._

_The door suddenly swung open, the bright light assaulting Sam's eyes, causing him to moan. A moment later, a hand roughly grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the closet. Literally. Sam screamed as his leg was jarred and pain shot up it. His leg was still much too weak to support Sam at all, so whoever had him, was literally dragging him across the floor. Sam screamed and sobbed as the man dragged him up the staircase, each stair causing white lights to explode before his eyes with unimaginable pain._

_Finally, they reached a room, where the man flung Sam onto the bed. Sam was hyperventilating and sobbing as he lay completely still, praying for the pain to go down to a bearable level._

_Nothing happened for several minutes as the pain finally started to cease. When it was back down at a manageable throb, Sam's vision started to focus. His breathing was still heavy and a steady stream of tears still escaped from the tear ducts of his eyes. He looked around and he finally saw who dragged him up here. His adopted father._

_"You done screaming, freak?" he asked non-caring.  
_

_Sam minutely shrunk away from the man, fear taking hold._

_His father noticed and smiled. "Aw... Don't worry, Sammy. It's just Daddy." He grabbed a pair of scissors from the dresser and approached the bed._

_Sam whimpered and flung his arms over his head. He felt the bed dip and braced himself for the worst. When the sound of the scissors snipping started, Sam slowly lowered his arms as there was no pain. His father was just cutting off his shirt. Once the shirt was removed, he got working on the sweats. Sam flinched and whimpered as the cutting moved his leg._

_After his father was done, Sam was completely naked. "You don't need these anymore..." he said as he tossed the ruined clothes away. "You're perfect just the way you are." He climbed back on the bed and smiled. "What do you think, Sam?"_

_Sam didn't know what to think. He started to tremble. Sam didn't like this. He hoped this man wasn't like Ned. Maybe... "D-Daddy...?"_

_His father frowned. "Yes?"_

_"I-I'm c-c-cold..."_

_His father's narrowed. "So?"_

_Sam looked up with pleading eyes. "C-can I have a b-blankie...?"_

_The man snarled and backhanded Sam across the face, causing him to shout out in pain as the movement jarred his leg and stung his face. "Why the hell should you feel _warmth_ when my son is dead!?" He straddled Sam's chest and shook the boy's shoulders hard as he screamed in his face. "He would be here if it wasn't for you! But you know what?! We were kind enough to take you in! Now, don't be an ungrateful prick!"_

_"I'm sorry!" Sam screamed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!!"_

_His father just glared at him. He scoffed. "I'll show you sorry!" He got off of Sam and lowered a hand to Sam's groin and started to slap his genitals hard, starting the boy's deserved punishment._

_Sam screamed as pain exploded from his groin and leg as the torture caused his legs to involutarily kick, nearly sending him over the abyss with agony. Nearly. Sam remembered the other man. He stuck needles in Sam before doing things, and no matter what happened, Sam would remain conscious._

_His father finally stopped, leaving Sam in a sobbing, quivering mess. "Oh, don't think I'm done with you, freak." He left the room, leaving Sam trembling on the bed._

_Once the pain once again started to subside, Sam noticed that he wet himself. The warm fluid spread through the sheets under him, and weting the bottoms of his legs. Sam's fingers made their way back into his mouth and he started to suck them again, absorbing what little comfort the action provided._

_When his father came back he was holding the broken handle of a broom stick. He wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, did you piss yourself?!" Sam's trembling increased as his father pulled one of the spoiled sheets out from under him. He balled up the yellowed section, yanked Sam's hand out of his mouth and and stuffed the sheet in. Sam gagged and coughed at the foulness in his mouth, but when he tried to pull the sheet out, his father slapped his hands away. Then__ he grabbed Sam's shoulder and flipped him over onto his stomach. Sam gave a pathetic grunt of pain as spikes of pain shot through his leg. He started to whimper as he wondered what his father had planned next._

_Something plunged into his ass causing Sam to scream into the foul gag. His father stood over him, raping Sam with the broken broom stick handle. He pushed and pulled the handle hard and fast, blood steadily flowed from Sam's anus. Sam's eyes rolled back until there were only whites. Soon, all Sam was aware of was the intense agony comsuming him, body and mind._

_When his father was satisfied, he removed the broom and cleaned it off. "Don't you _ever again_ ask for something you don't deserve, you freak."_

_Sam lay limply on the bed, his eyes glassy and blank, his brain absorbing his father's words and storing them for future self-preservation._

_---_

Sam eventually fell silent on the way back to the motel. He stared blankly into space and clutched desperately at Dean. Dean was trying not to think, knowing if he started to think, that anger at his father and friend would take hold and that would do no one any good.

When they arrived back at the motel, Dean quickly carried Sam inside. He carefully lay Sam on the bed. Dean knew that he needed to have a serious talk with his father, and that means separating from Sam, because Dean wanted Sam nowhere _near_ them when the explosion happened. Dean gently started to pull away, surprised when Sam made no move to stay clung to Dean. When Dean completely detatched himself from Sam's grasp, he watched as Sam's eyes momentarily focused on Dean's face before a single tear fell and Sam went comatose again.

"How's he doing?" John asked, annoyingly monotone.

Dean sighed, his anger starting to make itself known. He stood and faced his father, for once not intimidated by the man. "He could be a lot better."

John sighed as he shrugged. "At least Bloody Mary won't hurt anyone anymore."

Dean growled in frustration. "That's it! I have had it, Dad!"

"Don't talk back to me...!"

"You know what? Screw you! 'Cause I know you won't hear me any other way! The way you treat this kid has got to stop! No more calling him 'gimp', no more looking down on him! And for god's sake, try to have a little more _patience_ with him! He was tortured for _years_! You can't expect him to act like the rest of us!"

John looked dumbfounded. Then angry. "How dare you..."

"You know what, Dad?! I don't give a flying _fuck_ what you think right now!"

"Why are you even _doing _this?!" John yelled back. "He's just some random abuse case! Why the hell do you care so much about him!?"

"Maybe it's because I have _compassion, _Dad! Because I care about more than just the hunt!"

"So a _total_ stranger means more to you than your own mother, is that what I'm hearing!?" The words slipped out of John's mouth before he realized what he was saying. Dean's eyes widened and grew a bit more wet than normal.

"Don't you dare accuse me of not caring," Dean whispered. "I was _three_ when I found Mom in the living room. And for the rest of my life I will never forget how the pool of blood haloed her crooked head," he said bitterly. "But I don't think _Mom_ would have liked the way you're treating that poor kid. Hasn't he gone through enough already?"

John sighed. "Dean, he may not even be _human..._"

Dean scoffed. "You're joking, right?"

"Bloody Mary said..."

"Screw what Bloody Mary said! You explained to me before, that she could twist events and guilt! I bet some random people died, had some strange connection to Sam, and so everyone blamed _him"_

"Dean," John implored. "They always called him 'freak.' Now it may be because he's physically handicapped, but I think it's something else. Maybe they saw him do something!"

"Oh, for god's sake, Dad...!"

Then Dean noticed that John wasn't looking at him anymore, but beyond him. Dean whirled around and found Sam, sitting up in the bed, all his clothes discarded on the floor. His eyes were still glassy and so full of fear. When Sam realized that they were looking at him, he quickly got on his stomach and raised his rear end into the air, offering it up to any potential abuser. _Meat on a platter..._

Dean quickly went to Sam's side and picked him up and out of the sickening position. Sam started to panic and proceeded to slap himself in the groin, making pathetic, pained grunts with each blow.

"Sam!" Dean grabbed Sam's arms and held them up. Dean pinned Sam's body against his with his arms as he tried to calm the kid down. Sam squirmed in his hold, terrified of what all this meant. "It's okay, Sam. You didn't do anything wrong. You don't need to be punished, you don't need to please anyone..."

When Sam realized that his ass was where Dean's groin was, he started to hump Dean, desperate to please him before he decided how to fully punish him.

Dean quickly dropped Sam back on the bed, feeling a little sick that his body reacted to the sudden ministration.

When Sam landed on the bed, he lay out on his back, tears streaming down his face. He was ready now. Ready for what punishment Dean had decided for him. Dean knew now. He heard Mary, he heard what _he_ did. There was no going back now. They'd see him for the freak he is, punish him, and leave him to rot.

The thought saddened Sam like never before. The mere thought of Dean, who cared for him and made Sam feel _human_, turning on him, hating him, hurting him, made Sam want to break out sobbing. But he held his sobs back. Angering a man with useless noise while he was punishing you would only result in more pain.

Dean grabbed a blanket off the couch and carefully laid it over Sam. Sam looked up with confusion as Dean tucked the blanket around Sam and ran a hand through his hair. "You're not in trouble. I'm not gonna hurt you. I want you to get some sleep now, okay?"

Sam gave a shaky confused nod. As soon as Dean said it, Sam's body suddenly felt very heavy and just wanted to shut down for a few hours. So Sam gave in to his body's demands, and fell asleep.

---

_"Shut up, you bitch!" Ned yelled as he struck his wife across the face. Emily was on the floor sobbing. She clutched her stinging face as Ned continued to lay blows down on her._

_When Ned was satisfied that his wife was down for the count for now, he turned around in look for his adopted son, Sam._

_He found Sam huddled in the back of a closet. Tears were running down his face as he whimpered in fear. Ned roughly grabbed Sam and pulled him out of the closet. He quickly ripped off Sam's clothes and ordered him to get down on his hands and knees._

_With almost petrifying fear, Sam forced his body to do as Ned said. When he was on his hands and knees, he stayed absolutely still as Ned stared at the young body in satisfaction. But when he noticed the silent tears running down his face, he got angry. "What're you crying about, prick!" He kicked him in the stomach, launching Sam's small body into the wall. Sam gasped as the wind was knocked out of him and pain flared along his back. Ned grabbed Sam by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall repeatedly. Sobs shook Sam's body as pain exploded through his body. Then Ned started to dry hump Sam's small body through his jeans. Sam's body felt crushed between the large, swelling genitals pushing him hard against the wall._

_"N-Ned... Baby, st-top..." Emily stammered out._

_Ned stopped and slowly turned to his wife. "What did you say, whore?"_

_"H-he's only a boy... only a boy..." she echoed._

_Ned growled, causing Emily to shrink back. Ned grabbed the belt off of a robe and tied Sam to the radiator in the room. Sam screamed as his arm and side made contact with the burning metal. Tears ran down his face before he blissfully passed out._

_When Sam regained consciousness, he noticed how the radiator was no longer burning but cool now. Then he noticed Ned standing in front of him, staring lovingly at his naked form._

_"I love young bodies," he said. He took another swig of Jack. "They're so pure and perfect. And soft..." He lowered a hand and caressed Sam's inner thighs. Sam cringed and whimpered at the comfortableness the man brought him._

_Ned growled, unhappy with Sam's behavior. He got up and grabbed a belt. He swung out and hit Sam on the side. Sam screamed as the buckle hit it's mark. Ned swung the belt over and over at his son, his anger increasing with each blow. And Sam knew that this man was going to kill him. He didn't know how he knew or why he even knew what killing was. Sam just knew that his life was in danger. Sam closed his eyes as the blows got harder and faster, his entire body felt like it was on fire. The radiator was back on and was quickly heating up, burning Sam's side and arm. The blows suddenly stopped. Ned walked up to Sam and lifted his lower half up to his mouth. As he took Sam's entire groin in his mouth and moaned in pleasure, absolute terror took hold and Sam's eyes snapped open._

_"NOO!" His high-pitched scream echoed through at the room and Sam felt something primal inside of him snap. A white light engulfed the room, and then... nothing._

* * *

**Sooooo....?  
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	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**This chapter's a bit shorter than normal but I consider it a breakthrough chapter so I hope that makes up for it.  
**

**NEXT EPISODE OF SUPERNATURAL'S IN 51 MINTUES!!!!  
**

**Enjoy chapter fifteen!  
**

* * *

It was early in the morning. John had gone over to Caleb's room to see if they could find a potential hunt, leaving Dean sitting alone, watching Sam sleep. Not that Dean minded. He always hated research anyway.

Sam was sleeping peacefully for now. Small traces of drool made their way out along his fingers. Seeing a thirteen-year-old suck his fingers in such a childish manner was so heartbreaking...

Dean shook himself. What was _with_ him lately?! Sure, Dean was a little softer than his father, but never like this! Dean sighed. It simply boggled the mind how much Dean cared about this kid.

Right on cue, Sam shifted in the bed and slowly opened his eyes. He looked up at Dean with a blurry gaze. Then, remembering he still needs to be punished, Sam threw the blankets off of him and tried to spread his legs, but Dean grabbed them and forced them closed.

"No, Sam. You don't. Need. To do that." Dean climbed onto the bed with Sam and held him against his chest. He held a firm grip on Sam's wrists, knowing Sam would want to try and please him in any way he could.

Sam immediately melted into the warm embrace. A lone tear fell down his face. He felt so safe... It felt so good, Sam just couldn't help himself anymore. He turned into Dean's embrace, burying his face into the older teen's chest and clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly. Sobs escaped as Dean tightened his arms around Sam, making him feel even more safe in the cocoon of warmth he provided. On some level of awareness, Sam was fully aware that this was _wrong._ That he didn't deserve this. But he didn't care. Dean wasn't going to punish him. Others might, but not Dean. So maybe... Maybe he could do things that _he_ wanted around Dean. As long as John or Caleb or anyone else wasn't around, maybe he won't get into trouble.

After his sobs started to subside, he squeezed himself harder into Dean's chest. "Feeling better, Sam?"

"I... I th-think s-so..." came the muffled reply.

"Sam... I think we should talk about what Bloody Mary said."

Sam stiffened. He completely forgot about that. And he didn't want to talk about it. Sam can't ever talk about it. "W-why...?" he whimpered out. "C-can't we..." Sam pressed his face against Dean's shoulder, frustration knawing at him again at his inability to express himself. "Pl-lease..." Sam begged. "Please..."

"I know you don't want to," Dean said carefully. "But if you talk to me, I'll be able to help you. I promise. No matter what you say, I will never hurt you."

"John?" Sam asked. "C-Caleb?"

Dean bit his lip. Not knowing what exactly had happened to Sam, he didn't know how his hunter father and friend would react. "I won't let them hurt you either," he said confidently.

They sat in silence. Holding Sam like he was now, Dean could feel all the bones sticking of Sam and he could feel the twisted leg against his own. Dean held Sam instinctively closer.

"A-all m' fault..." Sam whispered.

Dean jerked a little, actually surprised Sam was going to talk to him. He brought a hand up and stroked Sam's hair comfortingly. "What was, kiddo?" Dean said quietly, encouraging Sam to continue.

"I thought they were gonna h-hurt me..." Sam's breathing hitched as more tears started to fall. "I-I didn' know wh-who they were... I w-was so... s-sc-car-red..." Sam worked the word out around the huge lump in his chest that was blocking his emotions. "I w-was being p-punished... Didn' know w-why back then..." He unconsciously started to rub the burn scar on his arm. "I-I sc-re-eamed... An' they all f-fell!" Sam sobbed. "Th-th-there was loud c-cracking noises and th-they all fell!" Sam pressed his face against Dean's shoulder again and sobbed hard. Fear started to take him as he wondered whether or not Dean would start to punish him now he knew Sam's dreaded secret.

Dean carefully listened to Sam's admission. Dean tried to place where in Sam's life this would have taken place and what on earth he was saying, but it wasn't until Sam started to rub his burn scar that Dean remembered his father talking about the incident before Sam disappeared on record, and with horror, Dean suddenly realized what happened.

---

_Scott Simmon slowly made his way up the staircase, his gun out in case of a potential threat. The Nelson's haven't been seen by anyone for over a week and everyone's worried. Their cars are still in their driveway and the doors were unlocked. Scott and a few fellow officers are now checking the house out to see what on earth's going on._

_When they reached the top floor, a horrid stench invaded their senses. Scott wrinkled his nose and tried to cover it with the inside of his arm while still keeping his gun at the ready. The smell got stronger as they worked their way to the master bedroom. Scott opened the bedroom door and gagged as the smell became suddenly palpable. He heard the officer's behind him moaning at the horrid stench. When he finally entered the room he nearly threw up at the sight._

_Emily and Ned Nelson's bodies were on the floor, partially rotted, their eyes sockets' sunken and full of flies. Emily was covered in bruises, lacerations and a few broken bones. Ned lay near her, his neck clearly broken._

_The heartbreaking sight was the young boy they had adopted a few years ago. He was, thankfully, alive, but in bad shape. He was tied naked to a running radiator, his body was covered in so many cuts and bruises he was barely recognizable. Pee and diarrhea covered his legs and soaked the floor beneath him, so he was having trouble finding purchase so he could get the pressure off his wrists._

_"Get the Coroner's Office and the paramedics!" Scott said as he ignored the strong smell and quickly stepped up and turned the radiator off. There were already some investigator's with them so they quickly took some pictures of the traumatized boy before Scott started to untie Sam's bonds._

_"N-no..." Sam whimpered out, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He pulled away from the officer with his eyes full of fear, his knees slipping in the excrement on the floor._

_"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay..." As he pulled on the tight knot keeping Sam captive, he heard the paramedics and coroner people enter. "Over here guys," Scott said to the paramedics. They nodded and immediately came up to Sam, pulling out their equipment to check up on the boy._

_Sam shook his head hard, the number of people surrounding him overwhelming him, his delirium making his fear skyrocket. "No... no, no, no, no, no...!" Sam begged, tears running down his face._

_"It's okay, Sam," one of the paramedics said. Being a small town, everyone knew everyone. "We're here to help you. We're not gonna hurt you."_

_Sam didn't seem to hear him. "No, no, no, no, no...!" Sam sobbed. All Sam could think was that these were men like Ned. They wanted to hurt him like Ned. Torture him. Sam shrunk away desperately, starting to scream. "No, no, no, no, NO!"_

_A series of loud cracks filled the room. Then there was a momentary silence before all the bodies fell to the floor dead. The only survivor was an officer standing outside the threshold to the room. His eyes were wide, not completely comprehending on what happened. He pulled out a tazer gun and pointed at Sam. "What the fuck did you do!?"_

_Sam looked fearfully at the angry man and shrunk back further. The officer continued to scream at him and when Sam didn't respond, he shot his weapon, the prongs attaching themselves to Sam. Sam screamed in pain, tears running unheeded down his face, as his entire body was consumed in unimaginable pain. It was only for a few seconds before he fell mecifully unconscious.  
_

_---_

"Oh my god..." Dean whispered. He held the sobbing Sam even tighter, rubbing soothing circles in his back. "Shh... It's okay, Sam."

"Ac'ident..." Sam whimpered. "Didn' mean to.... s-swear...!"

"It's okay, I believe you..." How could Dean not believe him. There was no way a five year old boy would kill someone on purpose. What Dean doesn't know is the details, but for now, they didn't matter. What Dean needed to decide now was what exactly to tell his father.

Apparently, Sam is a psychic. And he obviously has no control of his abilities. Dean supposed they were dormant for now, because they didn't make an appearance when the villagers tortured him or when Bloody Mary attacted him. That's good. That means it'll be easier to convince his father that Sam's not something to be 'wasted.' Oh, Dean knew he'd never be able to keep this from his father. One: he had the right to know. And two: he's not the easiest man to lie to.

So many other things made more sense now too. Why the villagers hated Sam so much and why any family would treat a child so. If Sam accidentally killed a certain number of people, especially in a small town, that probably means probably everyone knew someone who died. And would be out for revenge. And if a family high up in the community had a member that died, they would definitely be able to to have access to Sam to 'punish' him. This also explains why Sam went 'missing'. The villagers didn't want anyone to know what was happening so they just erased everything so no one would wonder.

And... this obviously explains why Sam is so desperate to please everyone. But now that Dean knew the main problem (at least, he thinks it's the main problem), he's hoping to convince Sam that it wasn't his fault and what all those people did to them was completely unjust.

Convince Sam that it wasn't his fault. Right. Because after eight years of people torturing you for a certain act and constantly telling you so, it's easy to get over. Nevertheless, Dean was determined to get Sam better.

Dean came back from his musings to realize that Sam now had his arms around Dean, holding him tightly, as if if he let go, Dean would disappear. He wasn't sobbing anymore. He just stayed in Dean's embrace, absorbing it for all it was worth. Dean sighed. "I need to check your bandages, kiddo."

Sam frowned in confusion. After he said, Dean wasn't mad? He wasn't angry? "'M n-not in tr-rouble...?" Sam whispered.

"Nah, kiddo. Killing those people.... it wasn't a good thing..." Sam slumped in Dean's arms. "... But it wasn't your fault. You don't deserve to be punished."

Sam clutched the back of Dean's shirt even tighter. "B-but.. I-I d-did it... th-they didn' do _anythin'..._ jus' me..."

"You didn't do it on purpose," Dean insisted. "You were trying to protect yourself and no one had the right to hold that against you."

Sam didn't understand the logic and he didn't try. He may not have believed Dean's words, but the fact he said them made Sam feel a world better. Now he knew. Dean won't hurt him. No matter what, it seems. Maybe... maybe Sam can trust Dean with... _everything._

* * *

**Please ask any questions if you're confused, I'm kinda starting to move fast....  
**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
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	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**_ALSO!!!_ You may want to reread chapter seven for small details.  
**

**_WARNING! _This chapter has some sexual content, NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH.  
**

**Enjoy chapter sixteen!  
**

* * *

"Okay," Dean said. "Let's check your bandages."

Sam nodded, his face still pressed tightly against Dean's shoulder.

"You're gonna hafta let go of me so I can get the medical supplies, 'kay?"

Sam gave another hesitant nod and slowly sat up straight and let go of his grip on Dean's shirt. Dean smiled. "Good job. I'll be right back." Dean walked up to his duffle bag and grabbed the first aid kit.

"Okay, Sam, I need you to take shirt and pants off."

Sam nodded again as he obediently removed his shirt and pants. Dean frowned as he started to inspect Sam's wounds. All of the cuts were nearly completely healed. The bruises were nearly gone, only faded green patches remained. Sam's fractured arms had also seemed to completely healed. When Dean checked Sam's legs, he was in awe of how Sam's inner thighs were just a little bit red from irritation but otherwise nothing but scar tissue. And when he checked the bottom of Sam's right foot, the skin was completely healed.

"How...?" Dean whispered.

"Always done that," Sam muttered. Dean looked up at Sam's scared face. "Always got better really fast. My mom and dad liked it. Easier to punish me that way."

Dean closed his eyes, trying to keep his anger under control. He didn't want to break Sam's trust now but scaring the boy. But seriously! Talk about a curse in disguise! The faster Sam healed, the sooner his family could continue torturing him. Dean jumped a little when he felt something brush against his cheek. He opened his eyes and saw Sam leaning over him, lightly wiping Dean's cheeks. Tears welled in Sam's eyes as he said, "Don't cry, D-Dean..."

That's when Dean realized he had tears of his own falling down his face. And his chest swelled when he realized that this was the first time Sam had ever said his name. Dean smiled, feeling as though Sam just made another huge breakthrough even though he only said Dean's name. Dean quickly wiped his tears away and got back to business. He got up and sat on the opposite bed. "See if you can walk, Sam."

Sam nodded and slowly rose to his feet. He winced a little but was able to stand without much of a problem. He slowly limped his way over to Dean, stumbling a few times, then finally collapsed on the bed next to Dean. When Sam looked up for approval, Dean smiled. "Good job, Sammy." Dean cringed inwardly when he used the nickname, but was surprised when Sam smiled. Dean leaned over and helped Sam into a sitting position next to him, making sure his leg was in a comfortable position.

"Hey, Sam?" Sam looked up at the older teen. "Can you tell me now?" Dean pointed to Sam's leg.

Sam looked down at his leg, his fingers unconsciously tracing the stretch marks when his leg was twisted. "It was my first punishment," Sam said quietly. "Well... after the policemen questioned me."

"So they did bring you in for questioning."

Sam gave Dean a confused look.

"Nothing." Dean took a deep breath, preparing himself. "Go on."

"When the policemen... got what they wanted... I went to a hospital. The doctor... he kept giving me this weird stuff. Kept me awake for a really long time." Tears started to fall unheeded down his face as he recounted events he barely ever dared _think _about. "They used a knife and c-cut my leg... _o-open..._"

Dean wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders, holding him tight. "It's okay, Sam... you don't have to keep going."

"It hurt so _much,"_ Sam said softly, his tears wetting the side of Dean's shirt. "I thought I was gonna _die..._ But... then it got worse. They... th-they cut the b-bone... and _twisted it_!" Sam's cries turned into sobs, full-on body shaking sobs.

"It's okay, Sam," Dean rubbed Sam's arm comfortingly. "You can stop now..."

"Th-they... screwed these... _metal_ things ta keep 'em there...!" Sam buried his face into Dean's shoulder, sobs coming out in harsh coughs.

Dean wrapped his arms tightly around the boy, rocking him slowly. "It's okay, now, Sammy... you're safe here..."

"Did it t'ree times..." Sam whimpered. "Kept doing... _things_ ta me... couldn' fall 'sleep..."

"Shh..." Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair, trying to soothe the traumatized boy.

---

"John?" Caleb said.

"Mmm?"

"We need to talk about that Sam kid."

John looked up from his research and gave his friend a calculated look. "Why?"

"John, you need to adjust your attitude towards him. He's just a kid, a kid who's been _tortured_ in ways no man should be. You can't be so harsh with him."

John sighed. "I know that, Caleb. But I'm worried, now. Worried he might be a threat to my family."

"Because of what Mary said?! John, you know she twists everything! Seeing the kid, I highly doubt he's_ dangerous _at all."

"You don't know that," John said. "You didn't see the way the villagers hated this kid. It was unnatural. Now usually, if a whole goddammed _town_ hates one kid, they have a pretty damn good reason to."

"Even so," Caleb shot back, "Don't you think the kid's gone through enough?"

"I'm not saying they were justified to hurt him," John tried to reason. "I'm just saying that the kid may be a problem."

"He's already a problem, John."

John frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he needs help. Have you taken him to a hospital to get checked out? He might have an STD or HIV. And he should really get that leg checked out."

"Caleb, you know we can't just waltz into a hospital. They might suspect us, especially since he's not on file..."

"And what about school?" Caleb continued. "The kid's probably never gotten an education and if he's going to live in the real world..."

John scoffed. "Like it's going to be even possible for him to live in the real world after everything he's seen. Including Bloody Mary."

Caleb sighed. He couldn't really argue with that. "Still, you should at least get him checked out at a hospital."

"And where do you suppose we go? And _how_ do you suppose we pay for it?"

"You're the con master," Caleb said. "You figure it out. How would you pay for Dean?"

"I have insurance for him. I don't for the kid."

"Like you can't figure something out."

"And what about the authorities?" John said. "What if they think _I_ had something to do with his condition?"

"There are plenty of hospitals around that won't ask any questions," Caleb said. "You know what? Forget it. You're just looking for an excuse to not take care of the kid."

John didn't say anything for a moment. "He might be a danger..."

"Danger my ass!" Caleb said. "If he was dangerous, don't you think it would have been apparent by now? And, if you think he's so dangerous, why don't you just dump him!" Caleb's eyes widened when John didn't answer. "Dean. You don't think Dean'll let you. And you know what. You're probably right. 'Cause that son of yours has a good heart. Probably takes after his mother. He certainly doesn't take after his father."

John glared at Caleb. "Just keep researching."

---

A few hours later, John went back to his motel room and found Dean sitting next to a sleeping Sam. John sighed. He really had no idea what to do about the boy.

When Dean saw his father walk in, he got up and grabbed his arm. "We need to talk, Dad. Outside."

John frowned but allowed his son to lead him outside. "What's this about, Dean?" he asked as Dean shut the motel door.

"I got Sam to talk to me."

John gave his son a look. "And?"

"And... I think he's a... psychic." Dean inwardly winced. Not quite how he wanted to say it.

John gave his son another look. "Come again?"

"Remember when you told me about his first foster parents? Emily and Ned Nelson? How Emily was found beaten to death and Ned had a broken neck? Soon after Sam disappeared?"

"Yeah...."

"I think Sam got scared. When people came to rescue him... he didn't _know_ whether or not they were gonna hurt him."

John frowned. "Get to the point, son."

"I think he... broke their necks. With his mind."

John felt his stomach plummet. This kid _was _a danger. "Dean, we need to get rid of him!"

"Dad, it was an accident! He was scared! He was just trying to protect himself!"

"And?!" John almost yelled. "It makes him even more dangerous if he can't control it!"

"I don't think it works like that! I think his powers are dormant for now. Otherwise, don't you think he would have used them when those villagers were torturing him?"

John sighed. "He's still a danger, Dean."

"We can help him!" Dean pleaded. "He's gone through his entire life with nothing but evil done to him. He wouldn't even recognize a kind act if it bit him in the ass. Everyone of authority, even doctors, have tortured him..."

"Wait a minute, what about doctors?"

Dean gave a humorless chuckle. "Sam told me how his leg ended up like that. A doctor kept him awake with some kind of drug while 'doing' things to him. Including cutting his leg open and surgically rearranging his bone structure," Dean spat out bitterly.

John swallowed hard, trying not to picture that visually in his head.

Dean sighed. "I don't want us to be another cruel chapter in his awful life. _Please_, Dad..."

After several long moments, John sighed. "Alright. First things first, though."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "What's that?"

"The kid should be taken to a hospital."

---

_The first time Sam met Greg was a couple weeks after he first met his father. His parents always kept him locked in the closet, only taking him out to punish him. They never gave him his clothes back, claiming he never needed them again. They gave him a dog bowl of dirty water everyday along with any leftovers they might have. Sam lived in constant fear of the door. Every time it opened, his mother or father would do things to him, make him beg for it._

_When Greg walked in, Sam was confused. The boy was in his early teens, tall and well built. He smiled at Sam. "Hi, Sammy. I'm Greg." He knelt in front of Sam who instinctively shoved himself deeper in the corner of the closet, sucking his fingers desperately. Greg laughed. "You really are a pathetic little freak, aren't you?" He yanked Sam's hand roughly out of his mouth. "Why do you do that?"_

_Sam shrugged. He didn't know why. It just made him feel better._

_Greg sighed. "My parents don't like it. Now I find, neither do I." Greg pulled a metal rod seemingly from thin air and started hitting Sam's hand with it. Sam screamed as his fingers snapped under the assault. Greg didn't keep it up for long, but by the time he was done, all of Sam's fingers were broken, his hand purple and swollen. Sam held his hand close to his chest, sobs racking his body. He stiffened when he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around Sam._

_"Shh, little brother. It's alright. I'm only doing it for your own good. I'm going to take care of you. All I want in return, is your cooperation. Lie down."_

_Sam's eyes went wide and he quickly shook his head. Greg growled. He pushed Sam against the wall, ignoring Sam cries as his hand and leg were jarred. Greg swiftly kicked Sam in the groin before dragging him out of the closet. "I'm gonna teach you to refuse me!"_

_He dragged Sam to his bedroom, where he tied Sam eagle spread to the bed, once again ignoring the boy's cries. He left for a moment but quickly came back with a bag. He placed the bag next to the bed and dug through it until he came back up with a small whip. "Now, you can count, right?" Sam gave a small nod, his eyes following the whip fearfully. "How high?"_

_"T-to a hu-undred...."_

_Greg gave Sam a wicked smile. "Good. I want you to count how many times I hit you with this. But every time you miss one, we start over. Got it?" When Sam nodded again, Greg brought his arm back and hit Sam across the chest. Sam screamed as a red welt appeared. "O-one...!" Sam sobbed. Greg brought his arm back again and hit Sam square in the groin. "TWO!" Sam screamed, tears running down his face in torrents._

_Sam never missed a single number, but Greg continued to hit Sam until he reached a hundred. A that point, Greg was tiring and his blows were softer. Sam was covered in red and purple welts. His eyes glassy and unfocused. However, he came back into focus when Greg climbed up on top of him, and he realized Greg was naked. Greg leaned forward and whispered into Sam's ear. "You know Scott Simmon? The police officer who apparently was right in front of you when you _killed_ him? He was my big brother. He was the best brother ever. Always took care of me, and kept everyone else safe." Greg thrust himself to the hilt into Sam's ass_, _causing Sam to scream as he was ripped open. "What the hell gave you the right to kill him?"_

_"'M sorry...!" Sam sobbed as Greg proceeded to rape him brutally, blood leaking out of him freely. He tried pulling on the restraints, the need to get away from the teenager who was spearing him so painfully, making Sam desperate._

_"Not sorry enough," Greg growled, tears forming in his eyes at the memory of his beloved brother. "I'm gonna make you scream so hard... I'm gonna break you so badly, you won't ever forget my face. No matter what, I will make sure that this face haunts you like no other for the rest of your pathetic life, you piece of shit." Greg shot his load making Sam scream again, and removed himself. He grabbed a towel and wiped himself off. He looked at the five-year-old murderer on his bed and other shot of anger coursed through him. He dug through the bag again until he found a knife. He climbed back up on Sam and stuck the tip into the top of Sam's forehead and slowly dug the blade through Sam's face. Sam screamed in agony as the tip dug through the flesh of his face slowly._ _Greg didn't stop until he had cut a deep jagged cut from his forehead down to the bottom of his right cheek. "Now I know you'll never forget me and what you did to my brother."_

* * *

**_ATTENTION!_ If you are confused about ANYTHING, please tell me and I'll clarify. Things are only going to get more confusing otherwise.  
**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
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	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**I'm starting to get the feeling that the flashbacks are a bit too dark for some of you... however I do put some important information into those flashbacks. So I'll try to find other ways to express these pieces of information.**

**I CAN'T WAIT UNTIL NEXT THURSDAY!!! TEEN!CHESTER FLASHBACKS!!!! Sam gets bullied and Dean comes to the rescue! I hear it's going to get pretty messy! Every limp!Sam protective!Dean fanfictioner's dream! XD  
**

**Enjoy chapter seventeen!  
**

* * *

A fear full cry came from inside the motel room. Dean and John quickly opened the door and rushed in. Dean immediately ran to Sam's side on the bed. Sam was sitting up, arms over his head fearfully, sobbing his heart out. Dean wrapped his arms around him, shushing the body-racking sobs.

As warm arms surrounded him and the sense of alien safety overwhelmed him, Sam leaned into the embrace, instantly knowing it was Dean. Sam started to calm, his nightmare fading back into memory. He's sobs started to cease into gasping breathes as he absorbed the safety the older teen provided. He slowly lowered his arms and tentatively grasped the front of Dean's shirt. He buried his face into Dean's shoulder and breathed in his scent.

John looked at the sight with awe. Watching his son comfort the broken child in such away was such a… _strange_ sight, for lack of a better word. There was just so much obvious care in the way his son took care of Sam. John wouldn't have thought Dean capable of such emotion for a practical stranger. Although, from the sounds of it, Dean's talked to the boy so much, he probably didn't think Sam as a stranger.

Once Sam was back to normal, Dean slowly leaned back, holding him away from himself to look him in the eye. Sam still had his fists gripped in Dean's shirt. He looked up at the older teen with wet, red-rimmed eyes.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Sam gave a shaky nod. "Jus' remembered…" Sam mumbled.

Dean nodded in understanding.

John cleared his throat. Sam's whirled his head around, his eyes suddenly filling with unspeakable fear.

"The sooner we go the better," John said.

Sam quickly let go of Dean's shirt and got up from the bed. He remembered the night before when John said he should sleep on the couch. And he just saw Sam wake up from the _bed_.

"Sam!" Dean said. "It's okay, he's not gonna hurt you!"

Sam ignored him, John's presence bringing back old habits. He stripped off his boxers and stumbled towards John.

When Dean saw Sam take off his boxers, he immediately realized what Sam was trying to do and got up to grab him. He wrapped his arms around Sam, who started to struggle.

"Shh, Sammy… It's okay…"

Sam shook his head, tears starting to fall down his face. "No…" he whimpered. "I'll be a good boy…"

"Shh…" Dean rubbed his hands up and down Sam's arms comfortingly. "C'mon." He led the young teen back to the bed. "We're gonna get you dressed, then we're _all_ gonna leave." He sat Sam on the bed and quickly shed his jacket. When he offered it to Sam, Sam quickly grabbed it, burying his face into the leather.

When Sam stumbled towards John completely naked, John had no idea what to do. What could he do that wouldn't have a negative consequence on the boy? He breathed a sigh of relief when Dean grabbed Sam and tried to console the boy. He could feel his inner marine trying to get out and tell the boy to suck it up and stop being a wuss. He was taking a lot of self-control to keep that part of him at bay.

After Dean gave Sam his jacket, he grabbed some of Sam's clothes and said, "Were leaving, Dad. Do you know any hospital near by that's... confidential, so to speak?"

"I found a local clinic. They'll have the basics and be able to administer the proper... tests. And they won't ask too many questions."

Dean nodded. He turned to Sam and tried to coax him out of the shell he had retreated in. When he got no response he turned back to his father and said, "Can you get the truck ready or something?"

John nodded in understanding. "I'll pack our stuff after you get out to the Impala." And with this, he left.

Dean turned his attention back to Sam. "Sammy? Hey, it's okay. It's just me now. My dad's gone outside."

Tentatively, Sam brought his face out of the comforting leather, looking around the motel room with darting eyes.

"See?" Dean said. "Just me."

Sam nodded. He held the jacket close to his chest, mumbling an apology for his behavior.

"It's alright, Sam," Dean assured. "But you know that you don't have to... undress yourself or _please_ anyone. Not me, not my dad, not Caleb, no one. You should never have to."

"But it hurts..." Sam whispered, liking he was telling a terrible secret. "It hurts if I don't."

"Not anymore," Dean said. "If you decide you don't want to do _that_ anymore for anyone else, I swear it won't hurt."

"Maybe not with you," Sam said quietly, eyes fixed on the leather in his hands. "But it always hurts with others. Sometimes even _if _I let them play with me."

Dean was helping Sam slip back on his boxers as he sighed. "That's not your life anymore, Sam. I'm going to help you start a new life with new people."

Sam shook his head. "Sh-shouldn'..."

Dean zipped up Sam's pants and said, "You're one of the most wonderful people I know. The fact that... all those people 'fell' when you were really little does not make you deserving of _any_ punishment. Especially what you've been through the last several years."

Sam just shook his head. He had killed all those people. He'd _hurt_ even more in doing so. He didn't deserve anything _but_ punishment.

Dean slipped Sam's shirt on and smiled. "Ready to go?"

Sam looked at Dean. Dean didn't offer him anything but comfort and support. These things were so foreign to Sam. But he really liked them. Then he realized, he didn't _want_ to be punished. He wanted what Dean offered. But that wasn't what he _deserved._

So question. Should Sam be looking for what he _deserved_ or what he _wanted_?

Sam nodded his head in response to Dean's question and slowly rose to his feet. Dean had a hand on his back and was minutely pushing Sam forward towards the motel door. Sam suddenly remembered there was an outside world and stopped momentarily. He started to shake and he shrunk back from the door.

"Sam?"

Sam blinked and shook his head. No. He shouldn't be avoided the door because he was _scared_. He deserved every bad thing that has and will happened to him. He has no reason to avoid it.

Sam held the jacket closer to himself and shakily continued forward, Dean keeping his hand on his back.

"I'm going to make you better," Dean said with finality. He opened the door and stepped outside. "I promise."

---

It was a twenty minute drive to the clinic, with John leading the way in his truck. Sam was sitting close to Dean, keeping a firm grip on his leather jacket.

Dean had to admit, this boy was a lot of work. Especially emotionally. And it was starting to take it's toll on Dean. He could practically feel his short temper waiting for the right moment to pounce. But Dean couldn't afford to let that happen. He couldn't get this far with Sam and have it all be undone with a harsh reply or angry glare.

When they pulled up to the clinic, Dean was surprised to see that the clinic looked a bit like a cottage. A large cottage, but a cottage, nonetheless.

Dean got out and helped Sam out of the same side. Sam always seemed to struggle with the angle of getting out, but Dean didn't mind helping.

John led the two teens inside, where they were hit by a sudden aroma of proffesionality.

So much for it being a cottage.

Dean felt Sam stiffen next to him. When Dean looked, Sam's eyes were wide, his breathing suddenly shallow and quick.

Then Dean remembered what Sam had said about his leg.

_Shit! Nice timing, Dean!_ "Hey, it's oka... - "

"NO!" Sam screamed, attracting the attention of all the aides and patients in the lobby. "NO, PLEASE!" With the jacket clenched close to his chest, Sam turned looked up him in a fearfully desperate manner. "PLEASE! I'LL BE A GOOD BOY! I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!" Tears were streaming down Sam's hysteric face unnoticed. "JUST PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME STAY HERE!"

"Sam, it's okay!" Dean tried to soothe. "These people are different! They won't hurt you!"

"I'LL BE A GOOD B-BOY...!" Sam sobbed. "JUST PLEASE...! D-DON'T...!"

As Dean tried to calm him down, John looked around for a nurse or someone to help. All the people were staring at them, whispering to their neighbor.

A doctor came out from behind the back doors and ran up to the threesome. He looked at John and said, "What's wrong?"

Before John could get word in -

"NO!" Sam screamed again, his eyes widening in unadulterated fear at the doctor. He buried his face in Dean's chest, trying to hide from the horrors of his own mind. "No, no, no, no, PLEASE! I'LL BE GOOD! I SWEAR!"

Not knowing what else to do, Dean picked Sam up and ran him out of the clinic. When he got back to the Impala, he quickly opened the door and placed Sam inside.

There was no word for how Sam was feeling. His chest was constricting, preventing him from getting a proper breath. His head was pounding and his leg was screaming, remembering his last visit to the 'doctors.' When Dean sat him down in the car, Sam unconsciously curled on himself, sobbing in harsh breaths. He was so scared. He didn't understand why Dean had brought him here, but he must have done something wrong. What did he do wrong? Was he too clingy? Maybe he told Dean too much. Maybe Dean really meant what he said before..

_"We hunt... the supernatural!" Dean laughed nervously._

_"See, you gotta understand, Sam... these things hurt people. They kill innocent people and some do all sorts of other awful things. We __protect people_."

Sam was one of these supernatural things, wasn't he? And he had killed innocent people... And now Dean wanted to get rid of him. For good. And that thought almost broke Sam. His sobs come out harder, his breathing almost nonexistent.

"Hey, hey.." Dean said quietly. "Calm down, Sammy. Breathe."

His body automatically complying with the order, Sam stopped crying and took in deep, shuddering breaths. He looked at Dean's concerned face. He didn't look at all like the villagers had after he killed those people. There was no hatred or fear in his eyes. Only concern and sadness. But Dean was so nice, he might just be keeping up a face for _Sam's_ benefit. And he'll probably be nice until he either hands Sam over or kills him himself. As much as that thought scared Sam, he wanted to make things up to Dean before that happened. He wanted to show Dean his appreciation for his kindness.

Dean felt a little guilty using an order to calm Sam down, but he didn't want the kid to pass out. When Sam looked at him, his eyes were so full of fear and acceptance, Dean just wanted to take Sam into a small hole and hide down there with him forever, away from the evils and memories of Sam's life.

When Sam reached for his jean's fasten, Dean almost lost it.

"Sam..." Dean said with a forced calm, gently slapping Sam's hands away and buttoning Sam's jeans back up. "No."

"I-it's okay..." Sam mumbled. He looked back at the clinic with fearful tears in his eyes. "Jus' wanna say thanks before..."

"Sam," Dean said. He looked at the clinic and sighed. "I know that the last time you were in a place like that, it was hell for you. But first of all, you don't have to do this..." he indicated Sam's groin. "Like I said before, you don't _ever_ have to do that. Secondly, _this _place, like most of them, is completely safe. No one will hurt you unnecessarily."

"It was necessary last time..." Sam mumbled. "Deserved it..."

"No," Dean said firmly. "You didn't. What those bastards did to you was completely unacceptable. And the people here... they won't do that stuff to you. Their going to try and make sure you're okay. Make sure you're not... sick or anything."

Sam frowned. "'M not sick..."

Dean sighed. "It's more complicated than that, Sam." He grabbed Sam's hands in his own and said, "Do you trust me?"

Sam nodded. "More dan anyone..." he said childishly.

"Than trust me, when I say that I'm not taking you here to be punished or left behind. I swear, I will be with you the entire time."

Sam looked at Dean through tear-filled, fearful eyes for a minute before giving him a shaky nod.

Dean smiled. He helped Sam out of the Impala and put a supportive arm over Sam's shoulders. "C'mon."

The doctor looked at John, who was staring incredulously at the door. "Sir, what was that about?"

John turned back to the doctor and sighed. "We found that boy on the road about a week ago. We figured out he was tortured for years and we tried to take care of him. But... the extent of his torture suggests that it might be too much for us."

"No wonder that boy was so frighten," the doctor said.

The door opened and Sam and Dean slowly walked in. Sam was clinging to Dean's shirt, his eyes wide and glassy with terror. Dean had his arm around the boy's shoulder protectively, whispering little reassurances.

The doctor smiled and took a few steps towards them, stopping a good ten feet away. "Hi. My name's Dr. Sullivan," he said gently, so not to scare the traumatized teen in front of him any further. "Can you tell me what your names are?"

"I'm Dean," Dean said. He looked down at Sam who started trembling violently when the doctor started talking. "This is Sam."

The doctor nodded. He frowned when he noticed the other patients staring at the scene with a disturbing curiosity. "I think I should take you to a private room. Follow me."

He headed towards the back, John following. Sam being almost comatose, was easy to lead, so Dean just urged Sam forward. Dr. Sullivan led them to a small sick room. When the threesome went inside, Dr. Sullivan said, "I'll be back in a few minutes. Mr....?"

"Harrison," John said. "John Harrison."

"Mr. Harrison, could you come with me for a sec?"

John looked at his son who was tending to the terrified child. He nodded. "Sure." He got up and shut the door behind him."

"Mr. Harrison..."

"John."

"John. Have you tried to contact this child's family?"

John hesitated. "That's kinda the problem. We're pretty damn sure at this point that it was his family that did this to him. Most of it anyway."

"I see... have you made any effort to contact the police about this or...?"

"I heard you were a low profile clinic. You see, we need to fly under the radar which is why we haven't contacted the police or gone to any other hospital."

The doctor sighed. "Do you know what exactly the kid went through?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if I need to treat him, I need to know what exactly to treat for."

"Oh, right..." John sighed as he ran a hand over his face. "He was definitely abused sexually. I think that was most of it. Oh, his his leg is all twisted."

"That would explain the strange limp I saw." The doctor turned and said, "I'll be getting a rape kit and other supplies to test him with. I'll also make an appointment with radiology."

"Thank you, doctor."

---

Dean held Sam close to himself. Dean was torn between knowing Sam needed the medical attention, and the fact that he could _feel_ Sam slowly breaking under his arm. A battle of fight versus flight warred inside Dean, wondering what was the best course of action for Sam's sake. Dean sighed. He knew that if Sam had any STDs, then the kid would need to get treated before the STD could progress.

"Hey, Sammy..."

Sam shakily looked up at Dean, his eyes watery and dull with fear.

"It's going to be okay. You know that, right?"

Sam shook his head. "How?" he whimpered out.

"Like I said before, I'm not leaving your side. And no one's going to hurt you with me right here."

Sam didn't really understand, but he reveled in the comfort the words provided. He leaned down until he was laying on his side, his upper body curled in Dean's lap, the leather jacket still clenched tightly to his chest. He closed his eyes and buried his face into Dean's thigh, breathing in deeply the comfort Dean radiated in waves. Silent tears of both fear and happiness fell down his face, soaking the jeans underneath him.

Dean smiled and rested a comforting hand on Sam's head. "I'll always take care of you, Sammy. I'll always be here."

* * *

**_ATTENTION!_ If you are confused about ANYTHING, please tell me and I'll clarify. Things are only going to get more confusing otherwise.  
**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**There's not that much Sam angst/limpness in this chapter, but there is definitely more to come! **

**I CAN'T WAIT UNTIL NEXT TOMORROW!!! TEEN!CHESTER FLASHBACKS!!!! Sam gets bullied and Dean comes to the rescue! I hear it's going to get pretty messy! Every limp!Sam protective!Dean fanfictioner's dream! XD **

**(BTW, I got some complaints about this being a spoiler, but it's not. That's pretty much what's in the description of the show.)**

**_BY THE WAY_ I just want to say thank you to all the people who have reviewed so far! Including the anonymous reviews (and the spanish reviewer, even though I have to use a spanish translator and get a very poor and confusing translation, I still appreciate the thoughts XD) You have all been amazing and I am eternally greatful.  
**

**Enjoy chapter eighteen!  
**

* * *

John came back into the room and sat in one of the hospital chairs. Dean was trying to calm an agitated Sam, who was trembling violently, his face pressed hard into Dean's thigh. John sighed. "Dean?"

Dean looked up at his father.

"We made need to..." John indicated a syringe into his inner arm. "To get him calm enough to do the tests."

Dean nodded, knowing his father was right, but knowing any needle was probably not going to go over well with Sam. Dean remembered Sam mentioning the doctor that gave him the 'weird stuff' that kept him awake. The doctor obviously tortured Sam with sleep deprivation. God, was there any torture he _didn't_ endure?

The doctor came in and said, "I'm ready to test Sam now."

Sam's trembling got harder and his grip on Dean's jeans became tighter. "Please..." Sam begged. "Please..."

Dean pet Sam's head comfortingly. He looked up a the doctor and asked, "Is there anything we can give him to calm him down?"

Dr. Sullivan nodded. "I'll be back in a moment."

After the doctor left, Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulders and lifted him into seated position. Sam immediately buried his face against Dean's shoulder. "It's okay, Sam..." Dean whispered into his ear. "We're going to give you something that will make sure you don't feel anything. But no matter what happens, just remember I'm right by your side."

Sam gave a small nod, not wanting to anger or annoy Dean. Truth be told, Sam didn't really understand what Dean said. He was too scared to really understand anything.

When Dr. Sullivan came back in, he was carrying a syringe full of clear liquid. "This is a sedative. It'll knock him out while doing tests."

Sam started to whimper at the doctor's voice, making Dean automatically wrap his arms tighter around him. "I think giving it to him is going to be a problem," Dean said.

The doctor nodded and slowly walked towards his patient. "Sam? Sam, I'm not gonna hurt you. I need to give this to you. I promise, it won't hurt."

Sam made no response except to press himself harder against Dean. Dean could feel his shoulder getting wet and knew Sam was crying. "Sam, listen to me. I swear, he's not going to hurt you." Sam continued to remain unchanged so Dean made a decision. "Sam, let the doctor give you the shot."

Sam jerked a little at the order, but like he was trained, he slowly turned around and offered the doctor his arm, a fresh wave of sobs threatening to overcome him. What did he do wrong to be punished so badly? _What did I do wrong?!_ Sam though incredulously._ Where do I start!?_

The doctor was a little hesitant but quickly swabbed the area with alcohol and gave the boy the sedative.

The familiar feeling of a needle being inserted made Sam's breathing hitch. His eyes began to droop and fear overcame him again, even stronger this time. He felt the arms around him squeeze him even tighter, and he was able to calm a little. Dean was here. Sam just kept that thought in his head. _Dean is here._

Dean felt immensely guilty as Sam went limp in his arms. He had used yet another order. And so soon after the last one. But Dean just didn't see another alternative. He was sincerely hoping he never had to use another order again. Sam might lose his trust in Dean if he kept using orders to force him to do things against his will.

"Alright," Dr. Sullivan said as he checked the time. "I'll get gurney in here, and I'll take him off to get tested and x-rayed."

"X-rayed?" Dean inquired.

"For his leg."

"Right... I'm coming with you."

Dr. Sullivan shook his head. "I'm sorry, son. But you and your father have to stay either here or in the waiting area."

"Hell, no!" Dean almost yelled. "I promised I'd stay by Sam's side!"

"Dean..." John warned.

"We're going to keep him under the entire time, considering the situation. You'll be by his side long before he wakes up. I promise."

Dean glared at the doctor for a moment before reluctantly sighing and shaking his head.

The doctor turned to John. "I have some paperwork for you to fill out in the meantime."

A gurney was rolled in and Dean tenderly placed Sam on it, wiping his long bangs away from his face. He removed his jacket from Sam's limp hands and said, "See ya in a while, Sammy."

---

It was over three hours before Dr. Sullivan came back in. John was resting in the very uncomfortable hospital chair while Dean paced worriedly. As soon as the doctor was inside the room Dean walked up and hurriedly asked, "Where's Sam?"

"Sam's still unconscious in one of our rooms. But I'd like to speak - "

Dean shook his head. "Take us to Sam. Then we talk."

The doctor looked at Dean for a moment before nodding. He was finding it very strange that this teen had such a protective streak for a practical stranger. Despite the circumstances.

When they arrived at Sam's room, Dean burst in. Sam was still unconscious. He was wearing hospital clothes and laying in a hospital bed. An IV was in his hand and Dean gave Dr. Sullivan a questioning look.

"He's very malnourished," the doctor explained. "We're basically just giving him some minerals and hydrating him."

Dean nodded. "He's has issues with eating. Hard to get anything down his throat."

Dr. Sullivan frowned. "Physically or mentally."

Dean pulled up a chair and grasped Sam's hand in his own. "Mentally," he said distractedly.

The doctor nodded and said, "We've got the test results for everything but the HIV results."

Dean and John looked at the doctor. "And?" Dean said.

"We've tested for everything necessary. And I regret to inform, he has syphilis."

Dean felt his stomach drop. "S-syphilis?"

"I think he's had it for a while," Dr. Sullivan continued. "I believe it's already gone past the primary and secondary stages. However, thankfully enough, we can cure it."

"I-I don't understand," Dean said. "You said he's gone past the primary and secondary stages. What's after that?"

"The third stage, the latent stage, doesn't usually begin until ten to twenty years after the secondary stage is over. It's a good thing we caught it in him as a child. If the third stage had started before we were able to cure it, he would be stuck with it. The latent stage causes brain and nerve damage, including dementia, paralysis and trouble with muscle movement. And it could also have damaged any or all of his organs. And if he had had a child himself, he probably would have passed it on."

Dean felt dizzy. The enormity of what Sam might have gone through making the room spin.

John placed a hand on Dean's neck and forced his head between his legs. "Breath, son."

When Dean's breathing went back to normal, he looked up at the doctor hopefully and said, "But he'll be fine now, right?"

The doctor sighed. "If he's had this for over a year, it's going to be difficult to cure, but it is still curable. We gave him a shot of penecillin. We'll test him again in a few days to see if he's still contracting the disease."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, but the doctor continued.

"However, I'm not going to lie to you. The fact that he has syphilis means he has an increased chance of also having HIV."

Dean scoffed in disbelief and buried his head in his hands. _Please, god no! Hasn't he gone through enough!?_

"We'll find out in a few days if he has it or not."

John remained standing stoically by his son. It hadn't even occurred to him that they may have to pay for treatments and so forth if this kid had HIV. _I knew this kid was going to be more trouble than he was worth._

Dr. Sullivan looked at the clock and said, "There's something else I need to talk to you about, preferably before Sam wakes up. And that's the custody of the child."

Dean's head shot up at that. "He's staying with us," he automatically said.

Dr. Sullivan shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't have a say in this matter. From what I've seen, I'm sure that you would be excellent guardians for this boy. Not many would go this far for a stranger and you obviously care for him. But you have no legal standing with him and I doubt you have papers making you eligible for adoption."

"I'm not making him go back in the system!" Dean growled. "Not when it screwed the hell with him before!"

"I'm sorry... But by law, this clinic is taking custody of Samuel Zel."

"You can't do that!" Dean said desperately. _No, no, NO! This couldn't be happening!_

"I can and I have to. You make anymore trouble about it, and I'm going to have to forbid you from visiting Sam."

Dean bit his lip and turned back to the unconscious Sam. Dean wasn't going to say anymore and risk being thrown out, but he would be DAMNED before he let Sam be taken away and put in some other shit hole of a home.

The doctor sighed. "I really am sorry, but I don't have a choice."

Dean didn't acknowledge him, but John nodded his head in affirmative. The doctor looked at the time again and said, "Sam should be awake in about thirty minutes. Please press the call button once he wakes up. I need to do a few things when he's awake."

The doctor turned to leave when Dean remembered the x-rays. "Dr. Sullivan?" The doctor paused in the doorway and turned towards the teen. "What about Sam's leg? Can anything be done about that?"

"I haven't gotten the x-rays back yet. We'll be able to make a decision once I've examined them." And with this, he left.

---

"Maybe it's for the best, Dean," John said.

Dean glared up at his father and said, "Wanna run that by me again, Dad?"

"I'm just saying, maybe the fact that he's going back to the system is a good thing."

"How is it a good thing?! You realize what happened the last time he was in the system!"

"There are plenty of good homes in the system too, Dean! Homes that could offer Sam a much better life than we could!"

"Yeah, well I'm not leaving that up to chance."

John growled in frustration. "I don't get it, Dean! Why the hell do you care so much about this kid!? He's just a random kid with an unfortunate past! Yes, it's tragic what happened to him, but that doesn't mean we have to take care of him. Hell, we don't even know if he's telling the truth about his previous!"

"He is," Dean assured.

"How do you know? You suddenly psychic or something?"

"No. I can just tell. This kid doesn't have the ability to lie."

John sighed. "I just don't get it. Why are you willing to bend over backwards to protect this kid?"

Dean stared at Sam's serene face. "I don't know," Dean admitted. "I just... I have this urge to protect him like my own family." Dean gave his father a knowing look.

John sighed again. "I don't care what 'urge' you have. He's not your family. He's going into the system and there's nothing you can do about it."

"What if we could train him? Teach him to be a hunter like us? Would you not mind having him on board then?"

"Dean, stop it..."

"No, you stop it! This kid needs a family. A _real_ family that won't screw him over or actually _screw_ him! We can be that for him! We may not be offer him the best life, but it's the best chance he's got at getting any life at all!"

"And how do you propose we stop that doctor from taking him away?"

"Think, Dad. Pretend Sam's me. What would you do if it was _me _they were threatening to take away."

John looked at Dean. He really didn't like this. But he also knew his son was right. Chances were, Sam would get a better life with them then anyone else, mainly because of Dean's unnatural protectiveness and likeness of the boy.

_But what about the hunt for Mary's killer? You gonna let some random kid slow you down from finding it?_

Then another voice kicked in. One that hadn't been heard in almost thirteen years.

_What would Mary do?_

John sighed in defeat. He was glad that his son had his wife's heart. It helped keep him in check sometimes.

---

As Sam came back into consciousness, he tried to remember what had happened. Did his family get too rough with him? Was he being punished? Why did everything seem so heavy?

"Sam?"

That voice. That voice was so familiar. So comforting... it wasn't Greg's voice. It was so much better than Greg's voice...

"C'mon, Sammy. That's it..."

The world started to come into focus and Sam saw a blurry figure above him. Short, light brown hair... and green eyes. Bright green eyes... _Dean._

"De..."

"Yeah, that's it, Sammy. You here now?"

Sam blinked the blurriness away from his eyes. He looked around and noticed bright white walls everywhere... _Like where Dr. Davidson played with him._

Sam started to hyperventilate. "'M I in trouble?! 'M sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Sam, it's okay!" Dean grabbed Sam's head between his hands and forced Sam to look at him. "You're not in trouble!"

Tears started to stream down Sam's face and his body started to tremble. "Be a good boy..." Sam whimpered. "'Swear..."

"Sam, I swear, you are not in trouble. No one's going to hurt you."

Sam shook his head and held his arms up hopefully, just wanting to feel safe in Dean's arms.

Dean immediately complied, sitting up on the bed, scooping Sam up in his arms and resting him between his legs. He held Sam close and slowly rocked him. "You're okay... nothing's going to happen to you."

Sam gasped as pain shot through his groin area.

"Sam? You alright?"

"It h-hurts..."

"What does?"

Sam looked down at himself, then back up at Dean.

"That's to be expected," Dr. Sullivan said as he walked into the room. "After all the tests we ran, you're bound be sore."

Sam's breathing hitched and his body stiffened. Dean wrapped his arms tighter around him and he felt safer than before.

Dr. Sullivan walked up and knelt by the bed, within Sam's eyesight. "Sam. I need you to answer some questions for me, okay?"

Fearing punishment otherwise, Sam quickly nodded.

"Have you had sores in the area around your penis or anus before?"

"A-anus?" Sam whispered in question.

"You butt."

Slowly, Sam nodded.

"When did these sores first appear?"

Dean swallowed hard. He knew the doctor was trying to figure out when Sam was first infected.

Sam shrugged. "All da time..." he whispered.

"Right, but do you remember the first time you got them?"

"L-long time 'go..."

"Right, but do you remember _when_?"

Sam's breathing became labored as he became more agitated. "I-I d-don' know..." Sam whimpered. Sam reached for the hem of his hospital pants and started to pull them down.

"No, no, Sam..." Dean whispered into his ear as he pulled Sam's hands away from his pants. "It's okay. The doctor doesn't want that."

Tears started to fall as Sam tried to figure out what the doctor wanted. "'M sorry..."

"It's okay, Sam. Now, have you ever gotten any rashes? Patches of skin that were red and rough, but not necessarily itched? They would have happened about the time the sores went away."

Sam just pressed himself harder against Dean and started to softly keen in distress. He didn't like these questions. The doctor kept asking about those things that his family punished him for weeks for. Yelling at him, calling him a dirty whore or a slut. They constantly cleaned him and punished him, using whips and raping him with obscure objects. More often then usual, they tied Sam outside for days at a time, letting Greg and his friends do what they pleased to him, often hitting and torturing the areas where Sam's sores and rashes were until they were bleeding, in punishment for having them. Those were the worst months of Sam's whole life.

And this doctor was asking about the same things. So what if he found out Sam _did _have these things at some point? Would he punish Sam like his family did?

Upon receiving no answer, Dr. Sullivan sighed. "I'll try again later." He got up and left saying, "I'm going to send some food up here later. He needs to eat drink as much as he can. Also, I have the x-rays back. I'll be able to speak to you about them in a bit. Should I speak to all of you or..."

"Can you just tell us as soon as you can?" Dean asked.

The doctor nodded. "I'll be back in a bit."

* * *

**I apologize to those who were hoping Sam would have a clean slate :(  
**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**There's not that much Sam angst/limpness in this chapter, but there is definitely more to come! **

**This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, however there's kinda a lot of info, so i hope that makes up for the shortness XD**

**_BY THE WAY_ I just want to say thank you to all the people who have reviewed so far! Including the anonymous reviews (and the spanish reviewer, even though I have to use a spanish translator and get a very poor and confusing translation, I still appreciate the thoughts XD) You have all been amazing and I am eternally greatful.  
**

**Enjoy chapter nineteen!  
**

* * *

As the doctor said, some hospital food was brought up a few minutes later. Dean was able to coax Sam to eat a portion of the mash potatoes and drink some of the orange juice. Then Sam would only be held. Dean was happy to comply, but was disappointed he wasn't able to get Sam to eat anymore. Dean knew that if Sam was malnourished and dehydrated, he was more susceptible for diseases.

_Though at this point, his body might have adjusted to the condition of his body._

Dr. Sullivan came back later, with a large envelope in hand. When the doctor entered the room, Sam's body started to shake and he hid his face in the crook of Dean's neck.

The doctor waved the envelope in the air. "I've reviewed the x-rays."

Dean perked up at this. He rubbed his hands comfortingly up and down Sam's back. "And?"

Dr. Sullivan took a deep breath. "Well..." The doctor turned on a screen, took out the ex-rays and attached them to the board. "At some point, someone surgically opened Sam's leg, cut his femur in half and twisted it. It's held together by a metal attachment and screws. The same was done in two different places of his tibia."

Dean felt his stomach churn at the x-rays. It was really a grotesque sight. The mass of muscles were clearly mashed up and the bones were out of angle and just proportionally _wrong_.

The doctor looked at Sam and said, "Sam, I need you to answer a few questions for me again, okay?"

Sam slowly and shakily lifted his face from Dean's shoulder and gave a small nod in consent.

"Alright. First, when you walk or move your leg, do you experience any pain?"

Sam didn't answer immediately. Usually when Sam told the truth about pain, he just ended up getting more. Sam looked up tenatively at Dean's face, looking for guidance. Dean gave a small nod, telling Sam to say the truth. Slowly, Sam nodded.

Dean looked at Sam, astonished that walking on his leg hurts him. It never seemed like that before.

"Okay. On a scale from one to ten, one being no pain at all, how much does it hurt?"

Sam started to tremble and tears fell down his face. He didn't know how to answer that. What if he got it wrong?

Seeing Sam struggle with the subject, Dean said, "I don't think it hurts him that much, because I didn't even know it caused him pain until now." The doctor nodded. "Why are you asking this?" Dean inquired.

"From the way his bones are lined up and how his muscles have been altered in position, I was expecting Sam to be in pain. You see," Dr. Sullivan pointed at the x-rays, "When he steps on his leg, the pressure causes the bones to bend a little under the stress where they're broken."

"Can it be fixed?" Dean asked.

Dr. Sullivan shook his head. "I don't think it's possible."

"What? Why?!"

"Dean..." John warned.

"Shut up, Dad! Doctor, why!?"

"It's obvious that his leg's been like this for a while. He was probably a very young child when this happened. You see, as he's grown, the bone has fused together and continued to grow in that position. Usually a broken bone in a young child would straighten and heal on it's own. But thanks to the metal attachments, they were forced to stay in the same position. So while painful, his bones are strong in their current structure because that's just how they've grown most of his life. Not to mention his muscles have also grown for all these years to adapt to his leg's condition. If we were to try and fix it, re-break the leg, remove the metal attachments, move his muscles back to the proper position, we'd probably just end up doing more damage."

Dean sagged. Although what the doctor said did make sense, Dean just couldn't believe that Sam was going to have to live with that leg for the rest of his life. After he finished killing Sam's 'family', that doctor was definitely next on his list. "Is there anything you can do to at least help the pain?"

"We can give him some painkillers," Dr. Sullivan said, "But I don't know what good they'd do. He's going to have to live with the pain for the rest of his life and he can't just keep pumping himself with --"

"'M fine..." Sam mumbled.

Dean jumped at the sudden statement. "Sam?"

"Not hurt dat much..." Sam mumbled in that childish manner. "Don' really notice it..."

The doctor nodded. "That's the other thing. Painkiller may also be completely unnecessary."

Dean placed a hand on Sam's head and whispered, "You sure, kiddo?" Sam gave a small nod, so slight, Dean barely felt it against his shoulder.

"I have other patients to attend to," Dr. Sullivan said. He got up and walked towards the door. "I'll be back to check on Sam in a little bit. A social worker is going to be by this afternoon." With this, he left.

It took Dean a second to really hear what the doctor had said. "Wha- and social worker?!"

"That's what the man said," John said.

Sam stiffened in Dean's arms. _Social worker_. He knew that word. He remembered them from when he was little...

---

_Sam was able to communicate pretty fluently about a year after he was found, when he was three._ _When they first found him, he could only say his name, "Sam Aza Zel." One of the social workers, Leah, was the one who took what Sam said and spelled it out into three names. Everything else about the boy was a guess. Though they were confident about the birthday, seeing as how they used dental to see how old he was._

_As he got older and they asked questions, the more strange things seemed around him. At first he was silent. Constantly sucking his fingers and looking at everyone with large, scared eyes. But as he was brought out of his shell, when asked where he got, or how he knew his name, Sam would say, "That's wha 'e said." They guessed that 'he' was his father, but never got a description out of Sam. Once Sam was able to communicate better, Sam couldn't even remember the man or ever mentioning him. So they assumed he was some teen to knocked up some poor girl and they both got in over their heads. Though Sam never mentioned a woman, which means the father probably took position of Sam at birth._

_Sam is what you would call a 'difficult' case. He was a strange child, an unusual intelligence in his eyes when he talked or did anything. By the time he was three and a half, he could read elementary and some middle school level books, and add, subtract, multiply, and divide large numbers. His language skills were advanced, though not overly so like his other skills._

_"435 times 32, Sam," Leah said._

_Sam sat there for a moment and thought about it. Then he smiled and said, "13,920."_

_Leah quickly worked it out on her calculator. She scoffed at the screen as it glared at her with the answer. She looked back up at Sam, who was playing with some blocks. "No wonder no one wants to foster him. What a freak..." she whispered._

_Sam froze in his playing and looked at Leah with tears in his eyes. "Wh-what...?"_

_Leah rolled her eyes and left. She needed to find a family that wouldn't mind Sam's strangeness._

_It was shortly after that that Sam was introduced to the Nelsons. When they brought him home, Emily cooked dinner and Ted showed Sam his new room._

_That night, Ned came into his room, smelling bad and looking weird. He stuffed a cloth in the little boys mouth before stripping Sam and himself. Nothing hurt. Ned just played. Sam didn't like it, but what else was he supposed to do? Sam just assumed most dads did this with their children._

_The next day, Sam watched as Ned beat his wife. Sam screamed and cried, and when he couldn't be consoled into silence, Ned beat him too. Then he stuffed Sam in a cabinet and locked it for the rest of the day. He only got Sam out that evening to play._

_Thus the beginning of Sam's nightmare._

_---_

Sam remembered the carelessness air of that social worker, Leah. He remembered her introducing him to the Nelson's. Because of what Leah said, Sam assumed he was sent to the Nelson's because it was bad to read and do math. Sam hasn't touched a book or done a math problem since. But he continued to get punished for other things. No matter what he did, it was never right. But understandably so.

But a social worker, like Leah, was coming here, now! She would see him with Dean, see that he's a bad boy and send him away to be punished again! Sam shook his head. No. He couldn't do that. They couldn't take him away from Dean! They just couldn't!

Dean noticed Sam starting to panic and knew that Sam realized what was going to happen. He quickly held Sam close, running his fingers through Sam's hair. "Shh... it's okay. We're not going let you leave. You're here to stay with me."

---

John couldn't believe he was doing this. But he had to admit, he was starting to feel for the boy too. What was stranger was that his feelings for the boy were starting to resemble the feelings he has for Dean, his son. Though not nearly as strong. John would be able to dump Sam if he became as horrible problem of some sort. But a feeling of protecting was starting to form. John started to feel this need to protect the boy. Sure that's not what his _thoughts _are saying. They're saying to dump the kid on the spot and get the hell out of here with Dean. But John couldn't ignore the feeling that urged him to protect Sam.

John looked at his watch and nodded to himself. Time to get the hell out of there.

* * *

**I apologize to those who were hoping Sam's leg could be fixed. :( This is just how I see things. If somebody's leg were like that in real life, they'd probably get the same diagnosis, (at that time) so I did what was most realistic.**

**I'm curious about what people think about Sam's past so please review and leg me know XD  
**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Dean is 17. Sam is 13. (NOT WINCEST!!!)**

**I am quite _proud_ of this chapter for its length and its contents. I don't know about the grammar, but I personally think that I did a good job with it. Not to mention it's over 4,000 words long :P**

**Much Sam!angst Protective!Dean here! And I think you're going to like John a lot better here...**

**_BY THE WAY_ I just want to say thank you to all the people who have reviewed so far! Including the anonymous reviews (and the spanish reviewer, even though I have to use a spanish translator and get a very poor and confusing translation, I still appreciate the thoughts XD) You have all been amazing and I am eternally gratful.  
**

**Enjoy chapter twenty!  
**

* * *

The fire alarm rung high pitched throughout the building. Sam jumped at the noise and leaned harder against Dean in fear.

"It's okay. It's just the fire alarm."

This didn't seem to ease Sam's worries. If anything, he seemed to become more fearful.

"C'mon, Sam..." Dean said. He tried to get off the bed but Sam held on to him fast. "Sam, it's okay, but we gotta go."

Sam just held onto Dean like his life depended on it, not letting either of them move. His watery eyes darted around, like he was looking for an enemy.

Dean gently grabbed Sam's fists where they gripped his shirt tightly. Sam was by no definition strong, so it was easy to pry Sam's hands off his shirt. Dean held Sam's hands in his and looked the young teen directly in the eye. "I know your scared, Sam. But I swear, we're getting out of here and we're leaving. But we have to go _now_. You just need to follow my lead. Okay?"

Sam gave a small, shaky nod. Dean got off the bed and grabbed Sam's hand in his. When Sam hesitated to get off the bed, Dean squeezed his hand firmly. "It's okay, Sam."

Sam looked at Dean with fearful but trusting eyes, then got off the bed.

---

The entire building was being evacuated. John had moved both the Impala and the truck to the back of the building where his son and the boy were supposed to come out. This entrance generally wasn't used for evacuation because of the little room there was back there. Going out that door would provide little more safety than if you were in the burning building itself.

The door opened and Dean led a shaking Sam out. John quickly started the truck as Dean and Sam got in the Impala. They drove off, getting away from the authorities and other officials.

Their destination was Singer Salvage.

---

I would be an eleven hour trip to Bobby's. They had only been driving an hour when they stopped at a motel for the night. They were all exhausted in more ways than one. Dean didn't even bother trying to get Sam to eat much. Thankfully he already had more than usual earlier that day.

When it was time to get ready for bed, Dean helped Sam change, but then Sam immediately walked to the couch by himself. He sat there looking and Dean and John expectantly.

For his part, John ignored Sam and his innuendos and climbed into his own bed, falling asleep almost instantly. Dean sat next to Sam on the couch. "You tired?"

Sam shook his head 'no' out of habit.

"Sam."

Sam looked at Dean and Dean gave him a knowing look. "Really. You won't get in trouble if you are."

Sam looked down at his hands and bit his lip. "A little bit," he mumbled.

"Alright..." Dean said. He placed a pillow on one side of the couch and gently pushed Sam back to lay his head against it. He then placed a blanket over Sam's body, making sure it completely covered him, because the motel room was sure to get cold at night. "I want you to answer me truthfully, Sammy, okay?" Sam bit his lip and gave a small nod. "Are you comfortable?"

Sam gave a small, quick, jerky nod.

"Seriously? Even your leg?" Dean couldn't imagine having that leg in that position comfortable.

Sam nodded again.

Dean nodded back. "Alright." He got up and turned off the lights and climbed into bed. "'Night, Sam."

Sam just lay there, his instinctual fear of someone grabbing him at any moment at night to play with, keeping him awake. He could hear Dean's breathing even out, telling him that Dean had fallen asleep. At the moment, Sam knew that no one was going to play with him. But he still feared sleep. Falling asleep when he should be sucking one of his parents off was inexcusable and usually resulted in Sam being strung up outside. Usually while someone played with him with _toys_. Sam hated toys. He had heard of children who beg their parents for a toy and so forth and Sam just didn't get it. Was he such a freak that he didn't like toys like the rest of the world? Or, for some reason, was he the only one who actually experienced pain with them? Was he really that twisted?

Sam sighed. His mind wandered back before he met his family. What happened after he regained consciousness after all those people fell...

---

_When Sam woke up, he was tied tightly to a chair, the thick rope chaffed his wrists and ankles._

_"Wh-what...?"_

_"He's awake," a soft voice said. Sam's head shot up. Three cops were sitting in front of him, all glaring at Sam with contempt. One of them was the one who shocked Sam into unconsciousness._

_"How'd you do it?" he asked._

_"D-d-do wh-what...?"_

_One of the other officers got up and slapped Sam across the face. Tears filled his eyes as he wondered what he did wrong._

_"Stop crying!" He slapped Sam again and Sam immediately sobered up, pushing his tears back, a skill he learned when he figured out that Ned hated tears as well._

_"How'd you kill all those people?" the officer asked again. "I was there." He stood and walked towards the trembling Sam. "You just screamed and all at once, every officer in the room, my _friends...!_, were dead! Why!? We were trying to help you!"_

_"'M sorry..." Sam whimpered, these men seriously scaring him. "I-I'll be good now..."_

_The man growled, walked up to Sam himself, and full-on punched Sam across the face. "Be good _now_?! Why didn't you think about that before you killed all those people, you murdering freak!"_

_In pain, terrified, and just plain confused, Sam started to sob. He didn't understand why these men were so mad, why they kept hurting him. He must have done something bad to be punished, right?_ _What'd he do wrong?_

_The man to slapped him grabbed the man that was there when he fell. "Calm down, Riggs. We ain't gonna get anything out of the brat when he's like this."_

_Riggs looked at Sam's sobbing form and nodded. "Let's put him in the Chamber for a day or so," he suggested. _

---

A small sob came out involuntarily before Sam could silence it. The Chamber turned out to be a room with a light so bright, you couldn't even block you eyes with you hands from it. Different kinds of loud music were also put on so loud that once they finally took him out of there, he couldn't even hear when they were saying to him. It was almost as bad as when the doctor put that stuff in him, keeping him awake.

Sam gripped his head tight with one hand, his other creeping into his mouth. He cried and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop his mind from remembering, but once he started, he couldn't stop.

---

_Soon after the officers found out what happened, things just turned for the worse. Sam was kept in a cell with a couple of grown, brute men, who used Sam as a punching bag when they got mad, only stopping when an officer forced them to stop._

_The occasional towns person, having some relation with one of the people Sam killed, would come in to give Sam a piece of their mind. Men found creative ways to torture and beat him with out killing him and women just scorned him, digging deep emotional scars in his brain. Sam honestly didn't know which one he feared most._

_After a while, the police handed him over to Dr. Davidson. As soon as he got his hands on the trembling boy, he strapped him to a table and started to administer drugs. He left Sam like that for a while, the occasional checking of Sam's vitals or molestation the only indication he gave of the boy being there._

_Then, he grabbed a scalpel and started slicing his leg._

---_  
_  
Dean woke up to a soft keening. It took his sleep-addled mind a few moments to realize what the sound what and where it was coming from.

He flipped the covers off himself and quietly strode to the couch. Sam was curled into a tight ball, arm over his head in fear and his other hand being sucked. "Sam?" he whispered softly.

He saw Sam's form flinch. "S-sorry..." he choked out around his hand. Dean could immediately tell he had been crying.

Without saying a word, Dean bent down and picked Sam up off the couch. Sam made a surprised noise but didn't squirm or reject the touch. Instead he curled up against Dean's chest, his sucking, becoming less frantic. Dean carried him over to his bed and lay him there. Dean then climbed in next to him and wrapped an arm around Sam. "Nothing's going to hurt you, Sam. Not while I'm here."

For a few moments, Sam didn't react at all. Then he flipped himself over and buried his face into Dean's chest, breathing in the scent. Dean's warmth suddenly made his eyelids start to fall, and for once he felt safe and not at all fearful of the consequences of falling asleep.

---

The next day was mostly uneventful. They spent almost the entire day driving, only stopping to get something eat. The two teens didn't talk all that much, for which Sam was grateful for. He could tell the older man wanted to talk about the previous night, and if he asked, Sam would automatically comply and turn into a human fountain, spilling all his emotions. But Dean didn't ask and Sam was honestly relieved that he didn't have to talk about it.

For most of the day, Sam pondered. He had been acting strange lately. For the first time ever, he was doing and wishing for what _he_ wanted. When he was around Dean and around Dean only, he was starting to ignore the instinctual grab for his pants, or the need to please no matter the cost to him.

While Dean drove and listened to music, he also pondered. The way he felt about Sam was definitely more than acquaintance, and most certainly more than friend. It was like he met Sam, skipped being his friend, and jumped to being his guardian. Dean started to wonder if this was what brother's felt like. He doubted it because all the siblings he's heard about do nothing but fight each other. Though, he has heard the occasional story of siblings becoming extremely close if one or both of them have been through a traumatic experience. _I think that applies to Sam..._

Dean looked over at Sam, who was kind of bent down, most of his body off the seat and in front of it, and peering through the bottom part of the window. Sam had been completely peaceful for most of the day. The only bit of excitement happened when Sam wet himself in the gas station. After many tears and apologies, (and nearly stripping himself right there in the store) on Sam's part, Dean carefully explained that if Sam ever had the urge again, to just tell him. That he wouldn't get mad or frustrated. That'd he'd just help Sam find a place to relieve himself.

They were getting close to Bobby's by now. Dean wasn't sure how Sam would react to the gruff man, or how Bobby would react to the traumatized teen. Dean was suddenly wondering if his father had even told Bobby about Sam's 'condition.' Dean sighed. They were in for an interesting night.

---

Bobby Singer heard the Impala and some other vehicle pull into his salvage. Rex, his dog, started to bark furiously at the newcomers. Bobby tried to mentally prepare himself. John had called him earlier, telling him about the kid who was tortured and abused beyond comprehension. And how he might have some supernatural asset that pretty much made the entire town turn on him. He had already started research to on psychics. They were pretty rare, and Bobby had never even heard of one that could do what Sam apparently could. Not without demonic help, that is. However, Bobby very much doubted Sam asked for demonic help at the age of five.

Bobby stood on his porch as the car and truck pulled up. John immediately jumped and went to greet the old friend. With a rare smile, the older men exchanged a quick hug and a firm handshake. "It's good to see ya, Bobby."

"You two, John. Been too long." Bobby looked over his friend's shoulder to see Dean getting out of the Impala and running over to the passenger's side. "That the boy?"

John turned around as Dean helped Sam get out of the car. "Yeah."

Bobby slowly walked over to the two teens, unsure on how Sam would react to him. "Hi, Dean."

"Hey, Bobby." Dean put an encouraging arm around Sam's shoulders when he noticed Sam was shaking.

Bobby turned kind eyes, which belied his appearance, towards the younger teen and gave a small smile. "You must be Sam Zel."

Sam gave a quick nod, keeping his eyes glued to the ground in front of his feet. He twisted his hands together nervously, unsure what to think of the older man.

Bobby gave a quick nod towards the house. "I got some dinner for ya guys. Let's get settled and eat and then... then we'll talk."

Sam flinched at Bobby's tone, misinterpreting it. He calmed down a little when Dean gave his arm a small squeeze. Sam closed his eyes, concentrating on Dean's presence.

Dean noticed Sam's immediate change from calm to agitated and held Sam a smidgen closer. His breathing was hitched and panicked. His trembling was immediately prominent, and he seemed to have folded in on himself, even though he barely moved. When Bobby and John turned to go inside, Dean slowly pushed Sam forward, helping Sam make his way to the house. When they reached the staircase that led to the porch, Dean stopped. _Oh crap..._ They've never encountered stairs with Sam before. Is it even possible for him to climb them with his leg?

"Hey, Sam."

Sam looked up at Dean with fearful eyes, unaware of Dean's concern.

"Can you climb stairs?"

Sam looked down at the small stairs in front of him, as though seeing them for the first time. Sam nodded, failing to mention that his family never really let him climb the stairs normally before. They preferred to either drag him up, or to have him crawl up, playing games with him on the way.

"You sure?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded again, pretty sure he could climb them normally. He didn't go forward until Dean did, and when he did, Sam twisted his leg to the side so that when he bent his knee, his leg was almost normal looking in movement. Disregarding the fact that his foot was pointed sideways, Sam almost looked normal.

Dean watched carefully as Sam climbed the stairs a bit shakily, but still managed. He admits, he was a bit surprised to see Sam twist his leg sideways so that it bent normally. _Of course _Dean thought. _Like when girls rest their ankle on the knee of the other leg._ Still, as soon as they made it to the top, Sam went back to walking normally, at least for him. It was obviously uncomfortable to keep his leg twisted like that.

They walked into the house to the smell of chicken and gravy. Four generous helpings of grilled chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy were around the table where John and Bobby already sat. Bobby beckoned them over. "C'mon boys, before it gets cold."

Dean eagerly walked over, but when they got to close, Sam stopped in his tracks. Dean looked down at Sam and saw him looking fearfully at the table and at Bobby. "It's okay, Sam. He's not gonna hurt you."

Sam bit his lip. His thoughts were starting to get muddled. Years of training and what he truly wanted clashed in his mind, mixing and becoming muddled. Training eventually won out and Sam dropped to the floor.

"Sam!" Dean cried.

Sam just sat on his knees, staring at his hands that were folded in his lap. He looked like a beaten dog waiting for some sort of reprieve.

Dean kneeled next to Sam and put his hands on Sam's shoulder's, trying to get him to stand back up. "C'mon, Sam. It's alright, nothing's gonna happen to you." However, Sam would not be coaxed out of his position.

Dean looked up at his father and friend, but they couldn't provide any more help than he could. So, Dean got up and grabbed his and Sam's plate and sat back down on the ground with Sam. He placed Sam's plate in front of him and said, "Eat three scoops of mashed potatoes, taking small bites of it, taking a sip or two of water inbetween. After I cut up the chicken for you, I want you to eat five pieces."

Sam nodded, eyes still glued to the ground. He picked up the spoon the started to nibble on the mashed potatoes.

---

After Sam had finished eating what he could (two scoops of mashed potatoes and three pieces of chicken) Dean led Sam upstairs to where they would be sleeping.

"This is where me and my dad stay when ever we visit Uncle Bobby."

"He's you uncle?"

"Well, not really. I just call him that."

They sat on the bed they would be sleeping on. On silent consent, they had agreed to sleep together from now on. Sam didn't have a single nightmare or restless movement the previous night after Dean carried him to his own bed. This way, they both hoped, they'd be able to get more sleep.

"Alright, Sam. Let's get you changed and ready for bed."

Dean went to the duffle carrying Sam's clothes when a small sob escaped Sam. Dean looked up and was surprised to see tears falling down Sam's face. "Sam? What's wrong?"

Sam just shook his head. He didn't understand. _He didn't understand._ "Why?" he croaked out.

"Why what?" Dean asked slowly.

Sam looked around him and made a weak 'all this' movement with his arm. "Wha'd I do ta deserve t'is?" he asked sadly.

Dean sighed as he stood and sat back down next to Sam. "Where'd this come from, Sam?"

"Whaddya mean? Is it bad tha' I'm asking?" Sam asked panicked.

"No, no," Dean said quickly. "I was just wondering why_ you're_ wondering why."

Sam shrugged and bowed his head down in shame. "Jus' don' see 'ow I deserve it..."

Dean wrapped his arm around Sam and said, "You deserve it more than anyone I know."

"Jus' a slut... twisted freak... murderer..."

"You're not any of those things," Dean insisted almost angrily. "You're a boy. A teenage boy who's been through hell all because of a misunderstanding and the probably forced misinterpreting of a situation! The people from your town, your very own _family_, deserves so much worse than what you went through, just for making you _go _through it."

Sam frowned, starting to full-on sob. "That don' make no _sense_...! Why you even _like_ me...?!"

Dean gave Sam a good squeeze with his arm. "Because you're an amazing person. It may not seem like it, but I can tell you've come a long way from where you were with your family. I can tell. You were just a blank, barely emotional, functional sex toy when I met you. Now look. You've made some decisions of your own. After_ years_ of abuse and punishment, you're still not beaten."

Sam curled in on himself and sobbed, Dean's words not making any sense to him. He knew he was changed, but he didn't think it was for the better. Dean seemed to think it was...

"Sam," Dean continued, "I'm not sure what you'll think of this but I'm going to tell you anyway. I think for a while now, I've thought of you as my brother."

Sam's head shot up at that. Dean? His brother? No, that can't be right at all. Brotherly relationships are like what Sam had with Greg. Sam didn't want another brother. Sam quickly shook his head.

Dean frowned, slightly hurt. "You don't want a brother?"

Sam shook his head. "You ain't like Greg... No _way_ can be m' broder..."

"Greg? He's part of your 'family?'"

Sam nodded. "'E loved me. Protected me from m' parents sometimes... would 'ug me too i-if I'm good. All 'e wan'ed in turn was ta sometimes play wit' me and punish when I deserved -- "

"Oh, Sam, he wasn't treating you like a brother at all!"

Sam looked at Dean with a frown. "'True broder'ood,' Greg use' to say. Us'ly afta 'e punish me... befo'e 'e played..."

Dean quickly shook his head. "That's not 'true brotherhood' at all, Sam! Greg used you for his own pleasure and made it seem like you were getting something special. Tell me, honestly, Sam. Did you like when Greg played with you?"

Sam started sucking his fingers, the fear of answering wrong coming back.

When Dean noticed Sam's distress he immediately rubbed his hands against Sam's arms and said, "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay! You're not in trouble... I'm just trying to say... brotherly relationships aren't what your _Greg_ used to tell you. It's never painful or uncomfortable. Now, truthfully they fight sometimes, bicker and so forth, but they take care of each other. They want what's best for each other."

Sam frowned and slowly looked up at Dean. "Like us?" he murmured around his hand.

Dean smiled. "Yeah. Like us."

There was a small knock on the door. Dean and Sam looked up and saw John standing there, biting his lip.

"I know I haven't been the most easy guy to live with the last week or so." John slowly started to approach Sam. "But I have to admit, I'm starting to feel for Sam, as well." John reached the bed they were sitting at. He slowly reached out a hand and placed it on Sam's head.

There was a pause in time. Everything froze just as it was. Dean with his arms around Sam, John with a (hopefully) comforting hand on Sam's head.

Sam's shoulders started to shake and a piece of a long forgotten, confusing puzzle, found a place where it fit just right with another. And for a small part, Sam's mind made _sense_. It wasn't much, but it made Sam soar. He looked up with teary eyes up at John. Sam gave a small smile through the tears and said, "D-daddy...?"

John smiled. A strange warmth filling his chest at the small word.

Sam looked at Dean. He reached up and started tracing lines on Dean's face. "Br-rother...?"

Dean's eyes started to fill with tears. "Yeah. I am." Dean bent down and placed a soft kiss on Sam's head. "Little brother."

Sam's breathing started to stutter as he cried. But a full-on smile belied the action. He almost laughed, he was so... _happy._ Yeah, that's what this feeling was. Happy. Sam cried so hard it seemed as though he was sobbing. But he was just happy. More happy than anyone else in the world, he imagined. And he felt absolutely not guilt. He may not deserve this but he wanted it. He wanted it so _badly_.

"No matter what... Sam Winchester," Dean said. "I'm going to get you better."

John lightly carded his fingers through the boy's hair, his eyes suspiciously bright. "We both are, son."

And that was it. Sam laughed. He laughed so hard his stomach hurt, but he didn't care. He laughed and laughed until he fell asleep in Dean's arms, fearing no punishment or pain from his _new _family.

* * *

**THE END... Or so I thought....**

**I was going to end it there, but I got WAY too many ideas for this story. So I'm continuing. the question is am I going to do a sequel or just continue it from here...  
**

**I'm really interested to see what you're thoughts are for this chapter! It took a freaking long time to do and as I said before, I'm quite proud. Still you if find something you don't like, just let me know.  
**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


	21. Chapter 21

_**THE SEQUEL IS POSTED. THE TITLE IS BROTHERHOOD BONDS, THOUGH THE TITLE MIGHT GET CHANGED. PLEASE CHECK IT OUT IF YOU'RE INTERESTED.**_


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